


Well That Was Just Peachy

by insanetics



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Animal Transformation, But a Canon-Episode type of Way, Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M, Not in a Weird Way - Freeform, Serious Injuries, Sexual Content, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insanetics/pseuds/insanetics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Team Free Will is on a run-of-the-mill hunt, something goes abruptly awry from a mess of confusing nowhere and Dean is left to deal with it all.  Which is great, because without Sam and Castiel as their usual selves, well, they may as well be giant, useless babies. That and there's the continuing struggle over a simple concept called personal space, which to Dean.. is just peachy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peachy Level 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written an SPN fan fiction in the history of my entire life, and I've been withholding for so long out of fear I won't do the characters justice, but I have decided NO MORE DELAY. It has ripped itself out of me and I would very much appreciate any and all feedback, comment, and criticisms. Seriously, even if you read one word of the chapter and decide you need to leave, you can openly tell me why. That's how we all improve, right?

* * *

"Well that was just peachy, Cas.  Thank you," Dean groused while taking the last few steps down the porch.  Sam tossed a sympathetic look toward Cas, but the angel's gaze was elsewhere - on Dean, as it always seemed to be when it was just the three of them.

 "I'm sorry, Dean," Cas replied, "I thought I was doing exactly as you suggested."

"You didn't learn anything since the last time, huh?"

Cas could only cast his head downward, to some degree offended.  If Dean didn't want him to do 'bad cop' and didn't want him to observe Sam's obviously towering presence during their interrogations, then what did he want?  He had watched Sam closely on every case he'd accompanied them on, and quite frankly, it had been taxing.  Sam was excessively adept in emotions.

"You frickin' _stretched_ yourself onto your toes and straight up personal-spaced the poor girl.  What the hell did you think that would accomplish?  Is that some special move that gets them into your own little 'Cas Comfort Town'?" Dean opened the door of the Impala and threw himself in.  "I'm tired of apologizing for you, dude," he added, voice steadily calming itself.

"That _was_ kind of weird," Sam admitted, shrugging as he got in beside Dean.

"I was trying to act like _you_ ," Cas retorted with a short glare, to which Sam shot an appraising glimpse out the window. 

"I didn't know I took on that stance," Sam reflected as Cas opened one of the back doors and joined them, since Dean insisted he 'get in the goddamned car' if he was going on hunts with them. 

"I assumed they were comforted by the height of your compassion, both figuratively and literally, much like the human trope _gentle giant_."

Sam lowered his head silently, withholding amusement, suddenly understanding Cas' innocent attempt at questioning the _right_ way, which of course seemed to rest solely on Dean's approval.  He couldn't decide on a response, so he left it. 

Dean was forced to sigh, a sigh Cas recognized as his expression of impatience, impatience spurred by his instinctual knowledge that these particular actions were expected.  They began to speed down interstate 25 through Thornton, Colorado, tracing the path back to their motel.  "It is not the most _equipped_ vessel for the task of imitating Sam's method of questioning."

"Did you hear that?  He just admitted he's not equipped, Sam," Dean reveled in his own joke, glancing at Sam for the inevitable laughter.  But one disinterested second later and his proud smirk faded. 

"I don't understand what is so amusing about this fact?" Cas questioned from behind.

Spirits now completely dimmed, "Nothing, Cas, nothing."

_______________________________

"So you know not to sit at the end of my bed all night long tonight, right?" Dean stared Cas down.

"There are not many spaces on which to sit, Dean."

"I don't care, dude!  Go feather off to a park or a… I don't know, anywhere!  You don't need to stay in the room if you're not even capable of sleep."

"You could sit on the corner of my bed," Sam offered from amongst his laptop.

"Thank you, Sam, but you flail around as you sleep, and the bed barely contains you as it is."

"Exactly!" Dean exclaimed as Sam took that comment with a _well that was blunt but I accept it_ face and resumed his case research, zoning the other two out like he often had to do.  "These beds are small, and grown men don't get in each other's space while frickin' _sleeping_!"

"Well -- Dean…" Cas started, lifted up his arms in minor exasperation.  "… I am _sorry_ if I don't fully grasp the human use of 'personal space' or what it has to do with age or gender.  It is merely a way of standing on Earth."

"Okay, you know what?  C'mere, Cas," Dean beckoned, obviously losing patience again.  Cas came, stopping a little over a foot away.  "Alright. This here, do you see it?" Dean gestured outward with open arms at his sides.

"Yes, Dean," Cas said, fighting not to roll his eyes.  It had become a surprisingly easy human habit to pick up on, simply due to how often its purpose could be utilized.

"This is personal space.  I've got it, you've got it, and mine - mine is pretty wide, and you - you especially need to stay out of it."  He stared pointedly at Cas.

"Why are you so insistent I create distance?" There went the familiar tilt of Cas' head.

"Come on," Dean huffed, "It makes people uncomfortable."

"How far can I step into your space before you become uncomfortable?"

"Well, you're alre--"

Cas took a sudden calculating step forward, giving them only inches now.  There was a moment of silence as Dean stared unamusedly, carefully keeping composure, into Cas' stoic expression.  He knew the angel had his occasional imposing moments, but now was really not the time.  _Or_ the subject.  _Or_ the place.  He could see the man's dark eyelashes in awkward detail, and he was sure if they stood here long enough, he'd be able to get a good count of them.  Were there really that many shades of blue to Cas' eyes?  In the lighting of the motel bulb hidden in the white shell above them, they were a stony hue he felt held defense he'd never be able to see past and -- what the hell -- he was _not_ doing this.  _Seriously - what the fuck?_ He refocused on the situation, realizing Cas still had his head tilted, his eyebrows now furrowed in scrutinizing confusion at Dean's apparent distraction.

"…You're in it now," he finally said, hastily backing up, realizing the bedside table wasn't far behind and suffering for it with a corner to the back of knee.  "Son of a _bitch_! " He promptly sat down on edge of his bed, holding his leg straight out in front of him, massaging it.  He didn't know why, but his heart was beating way too damn quickly for a damn table corner.

He looked up just as Sam's eyes hurriedly turned to his screen.  Cas was still staring down at him, perplexity overflowing from his stupid angel face.  "What?" Dean uttered roughly.  "That hurt," he tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit, because suddenly things felt tense as all hell.  "Stop looking at me, it's weirding me out," he shot at Cas, lowering his leg to the floor.  "My space extends at least five - maybe four steps away from me, by the way, so now you have the reference, George."

"I don't unders--"

"Curious George, the monkey."

"Dean--"

"I think I'm gonna go walk this out," Dean said suddenly, patting his thighs as he stood up from the bed.  "You guys want anything from the machines while I'm out?"

"Bottle of water," Sam quipped.  The look on his face was a little too discerning for Dean, but he decided to ignore it.  Hell, he was leaving anyway.  His hand sat on the doorknob, politely waiting for Cas until he remembered that the damn angel didn't even eat or drink.  _Come on, dude_.  "Right," he murmured, before turning the door open and closing it behind him.

Cas was left standing there, at a genuine loss on how to decipher Dean's behavior.  He could in many instances, yes, but that was after many subjections to the same expression or gesture.  He eventually gained an almost human understanding of them.  However, this particular time of 'getting in Dean's ass' had never yielded this reaction from the man.  It was not the usual uneasy flickering downward glance, as if Dean couldn't decide where to keep his eyes, the subtle leaning back, the ensuing slow blink and furrowed brow that tied into the exasperated reminder that he was too close. 

This was… different.  He knew he had dared to violate the terms Dean so strongly put in place so that he would finally receive a clear explanation, but he still hadn't gotten one.  All he got was Dean, Dean staring at him as he often did Dean.  Was he attempting to read him as well?  What was so desirable to figure out this particular time?  Was he merely trying harder to stand his ground?  There were far too many thoughts in his mind and although he was an angel and was prone to a plethora beyond human comprehension every single day, these were somehow in the forefront.

"Does Dean have some kind of special angel-reading power or something?" he heard from a distance, only registering an invasive sound. 

Why did Dean let himself get hurt by something as simple as stepping backward?  Why did it hurt him so greatly that he had to leave the room and recover?  How frustrating this lack of comprehension was, especially when he knew it was a mere human initiating it.  Well, it was not mere - it was _Dean_ , but still, all of this was over something inescapably human.

Another invasive sound.  Someone was clearing their throat.  Oh, yes.

"What?" Cas turned around on Sam, recalling that he wasn't the only one left in the room. 

"I just asked… if Dean has some special ability to read angel minds, like on a separate frequency normal humans can't?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"I don't know… because he's always looking at you for longer than is normal.  I figured there was some understanding or similarity between you two that makes that necessary."  Sam had shut his laptop, his eyes too tired to keep staring at the unnatural glow.  He would go to sleep, but he felt weird with Cas standing looking so lost in the middle of the room like that.

"No, he retains entirely human abilities, nothing angelic," Cas answered with his creased brow.

"Oh… well, huh," Sam settled, musing a few seconds before, "Well, I'm gonna get some sleep now, so--"

"Wait.. Sam."

Cas abruptly fell to his knees and Sam was just as fast to jump to his feet.  "What is it?  What's wrong?"  He rushed to Cas' side.

"I-- I don't know…" Cas struggled with words, feeling a strange, wet sensation down his vessel's throat.  "Something is coming up." His voice escaped lower than normal.

"Alright.. oh," Sam voiced, immediately thinking he was about to deal with an angel puking his guts onto the motel carpet.  "Here, I'll help you to the bathroom." He wrapped one hand beneath one of Cas' arms, helping him hoist himself from the floor so they could navigate to the bathroom.  When they arrived and Sam let go of the man near the toilet, Cas promptly crumpled to the floor, prostrate against the tile. 

"Cas?!" A shake and then suddenly Sam got a horrifyingly strong urge to vomit himself.  So strong, actually, that he was forced to climb over and past Castiel's body to the bathtub, absolutely sure he was going to heave something terrible. 

And then consciousness hastily ditched him.

* * *

 


	2. Peachy Level 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I see you non-reviewers out there, not sharing whether it's been good or bad or ugly - I must STOUTLY URGE YOU TO DO SO. Unless you do so at the very end, in which case I retract my CAPS.
> 
> Moving on.. I have no idea where they'll all be heading in this fic. I don't write outlines, so I'm very much winging it (editing myself, too). The way to go on the first try, yeah? I'm also trying to make this a bit like an episode would play out. If curious about the time period, it was up in the air, but I'll say it's in the realm of early season five - but rather unfocused on the actual season five plot line. Enjoy!

* * *

It was on his way back to their room, water bottle in hand and brain clear of the fog that consisted of stupid… frickin' incapable angels, that he heard a clanging.  Instinct overtook him as he quickly pressed himself up against the wall between the door and the window, gun already in hand and prepared at his shoulder.  “Guys?” he uttered close to the space in the door. 

Carefully, after a few moments of complete silence, he lowered his free hand to the knob, twisting it and allowing the door to swing inward before he entered. 

He sidestepped into the room, eyes scanning the corners and the space in front of him – all in swift, learned motions.  “Guys?” he questioned the emptiness again, sensing no other presence in the room.  No sulfur, no flickering, no tracks, no signs of struggle, no scent of any kind of monster or trickery.  _What the hell?_

Now he deliberated the idea that Castiel had zapped somewhere with Sam, but why the hell would they leave him behind?  And when did they ever work on things together – when did Cas ever choose Sam over him for help?  He skirted to the side, deciding the bathroom was the next best bet – why the hell they’d _both_ be in there, he didn’t wanna know – and stopped as soon as he caught sight of what looked to be… a hairy.. something?  It looked to be the legs of an animal, splayed out on the floor.  He pointed his gun forward as he approached the doorframe. 

“ _What the hell_?” he murmured, entirely to himself. His eyebrows had dived into an expression of complete bewilderment. 

Lying in the bathroom were two of the largest dogs he’d ever fucking seen.  Not werewolves, not hellhounds – that was obvious – but what he gathered to be plain everyday crap and fetch canines.  There was nothing evil about them, nothing malicious about the way they lay there, seemingly out cold, one halfway collapsed on the other, one of their ears flopped into the toilet bowl.  There was barely enough room for Dean to step inside due to the sheer size of them, especially with one stomach-first against the tile, its four legs sticking out in each direction.  In fact, he had to fight to not laugh at the absurdity of the entire thing. 

Was this Sam’s idea of a joke?  Throw a few of the hugest dogs he could find into a motel bathroom and wait until Dean flipped the fuck out because he _knew_ he hated the smell of dog.

But where would Sam find the time?  Find the place to come by these things?  And where the hell were _they_?  Did he seriouslyget Cas in on it?  He could imagine it now.  ‘Sam, I don’t understand how putting canines inside of this bathroom serves a beneficial cause.’ ‘You don’t get it, Cas, Dean does _not_ like dogs. He’ll come unglued. Now put this one in here and I’ll work on getting one in the Impala.’

“Joke’s over, where are you guys?” Dean called out, making sure he sounded unimpressed.  A trace of uncertainty slithered its way into him, but he swallowed it down.  “I don’t know how you managed this, but if you think two comatose flea-hoarders are hilarious, it’s not. Cas, you especially, get your feathery ass out here and zap these things back to the pound.”

Seconds.  Half a minute.  Nothing.

Dean stole another glance into the bathroom.  Alright, so this was getting a little weird.  He didn’t want to be going batshit insane, but these dogs – something a little too human about them.  It felt _wrong_.  And it wasn’t something he’d admit to anyone, but they sort of… kind of… _looked_ like Sam and Cas.  If they were dogs.

“Oh god, please,” he groaned, finally shoving his gun back into his jeans.  He stepped precariously over the white beast’s black-tipped limbs, taking the small space he found to quietly and carefully kneel down. 

“Cas?” he whispered, now feeling deeply ridiculous.  He slid one foot out to poke its front leg.  Nothing but a faint huff could be heard, since its head was buried beneath the large mass of shaggy red-brown fur that belonged to the second.

Dean had to stretch himself so that his arm could reach over to where its black face rested against the toilet – and gingerly he lifted its ear.  “Sammy?”  Brief twitch, but no further movement.  He dropped the ear and lifted himself into a stand.  “Okay,” he said to the air, confounded, “Okay.  Great.  Have I missed something?” 

He moved himself back to the door, unsure on what to do or even what _to think_ right now.  Why the hell couldn’t he go out for one damn second and come back to what he left?  Why _this_? 

“Last chance,” he proposed to what now appeared to be no one.  “Please let this be a dream and I’ll wake up with Sam and Cas laughin’ it up. I’ll take it, okay?  Because _come on_ , something did _not_ just turn my brother and a full-blown angel into these things.” His tone was full of unguarded protest.

As if anticipating some godly force to shine down into the room and grant him answers or relief, he waited.  Waited for maybe – uh – one minute, and when nothing at all happened, when no obnoxious laughter burst out of the motel’s curtains, when the dogs didn’t magically disappear – well, he did the first thing that came to mind.

A steady stream of water poured down from the water bottle still in his hand to the exposed face of the shaggy Sam dog – and the startled reaction he got was way greater than he thought.  It took a moment or two, but then its head jerked up and so did the rest of its body. 

“Whoa,” Dean exclaimed as he half-leaned-half-dodged the scene and stole the space in the doorframe, watching as the shaggy one accidentally send a clean kick to the white one’s head – causing a sharp whimper and a rude awakening.  The ear had been pulled from the toilet and the dog was shaking his head of the water – from bottle and toilet – into flying little droplets around the room.  The white one was scrabbling, looking like it had woken from a deep sleep barely knowing how to keep upright.  Nothing but a continuous scraping of dog nails against the hard floor, and the brown one, once suitably dry – Dean guessed – was now staring with panic at the white dog struggling in front of him, which hit its head on the sink (another whimper).  Shaggy barked, then jerked backward into the bathtub in what looked like alarm, one of its legs folding on contact and causing its whole hefty form to fall, it’s head nearly colliding with the bowl again.  Instead it dodge-fell onto its side, legs tangling with the white one’s legs, which was a bummer because it really seemed to be getting a hang on how to stand.

They continued to scuffle like this for probably the next minute and a half before Dean couldn’t hold it in any longer.  “So it’s really you guys, huh?  I thought it was just me and my head, and then… this.”  He gestured toward them.

Both heads perked up at the sound of his voice.  The white one had noticed him first, but was still attempting to disengage.  “Urrrf,” it barked, its bark – at this point in Dean’s living nightmare – unsurprisingly deep.  Rough.  Dean sighed.  “I’m gonna be in the other room.”

He tugged off his jacket, threw it on the floor, then fell onto his laptop-lacking bed face first, arms reaching up to hug the pillow over his head.  He honestly had no idea how to grasp this situation – and so he’d damn well sleep it off.  He deserved that, because he damn well didn’t deserve this. 

But the fates would not have it.  They were exiting the bathroom.  Dean could sense it even with eyelids closed.  He opened them just as Cas – okay, weird - bumped Sam – still weird - out of the way so he could squeeze through first, his head tilted upward in what looked like a show of what was left of his dignity. 

Sam had his own head lowered, looking defeated.  He didn’t do anything but climb onto his bed and settle beside his laptop, his head turned opposite Dean. 

“Buck up, Shaggy.  We’ll figure this out once I get my four hours,” Dean gruffly encouraged, voice half muffled against his pillow.  What he got for that was an annoyed dog glare.  Again, way too human.  Frickin’ creepy.  Even his eyes were Sam’s – that hazely..greenish..brownish hue.  Hell if Dean paid that close of attention, but he at least knew they were Sammy’s.

Dean reached up to turn off the lamp sitting there on the bedside table he would blame as the thing that doomed him to all of this in the first place.  And as he did he noticed Cas sitting right next to his bed, the thick white fur with some goldish undertone bristling with what, wait -- could fur do that?  Maybe it was just the hard blue stare he was receiving.  Damn it – just the same as in angel form, huh?  Good going, whoever-the-hell-did-this.  Way to make this even more unnerving and like he’d been warped into a bizarro episode of the Twilight Zone.

“What do you want, Snowball?”  Dean clicked off the light.  “I’m hitting the sack.  I already told Sam we’d take care of this later.  I don’t see you guys trying to do anything about it right now.”  He turned his head away from Cas, closing his eyes.

Dean swore he could hear a soft, low rumbling of a growl in the dark, but he ignored it until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

He could feel warm puffs of air hitting him square in the face.  Bothered, he turned onto his back, one arm resting on his forehead.  The bed shifted and he felt it again.  “What—“ Dean’s eyes snapped open, the rest of the expletive stuck in his throat at the sight of a huge, white head of fur looming over him.  The strikingly light blue burned right into him.

“ _Seriously_?” Dean exclaimed, swiftly rolling himself off of the bed.

Cas huffed indignantly from where Dean had previously been laying, an action escaping his stupid dog snout that Dean now knew was deliberately used to wake him up.

“Personal space!  I swear, dude!  We only had a detailed conversation yesterday!  Just because you’re Lassie now doesn’t change the rules!”

Cas barked at him.  A strangely soft sound for a dog that looked like he stood three whole feet from the ground.

“Sorry, don’t speak it,” Dean countered with raised hands.  Cas jumped down from the bed and advanced before Dean could get another word out.  All of a sudden he found himself stumbling back with the weight of a one-hundred-fifty pound dog’s paws pressing into his shoulders.  His back hit a wall.

“What the hell, Cas?!” He gripped the snowy legs and shoved him away, Cas’ only option being to drop back down to the floor.  “More like frickin’ Cujo!  What was that for?!”

Another bark from Cas, this time louder, but at least he wasn’t moving.

Dean saw that Sam was sitting on his bed, watching the ordeal.  Dean swore that fur-face was smiling in there.  “Not funny!” Dean accusingly pointed in Sam’s direction.  His other anxiously rubbed at the back of his neck.  “How am I supposed to talk to you guys if you can’t say anything back?  I’m gonna go nuts here.  What the hell happened last night?!”

Sam hunched over in his best attempt at a shrug.

Cas was restlessly circling a spot of the floor, head down.  Dean was already done with whatever his idiotic doggy behavior was about.

“So I have to retrace all of our steps or what?” Dean griped.  “This really puts a hold on the case _we’re already working on_.  You were supposed to have the name and gravesite down.”

Sam tilted his head, a self-justifying bark leaving him.  Good enough for Dean.  He just wanted to get this thing reversed a.s.a.p. – no time to waste.  His eyes dropped to where he swore he’d tossed his jacket before, and then –

“Really?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised to express the _you’ve got to be kidding me_.  Cas had the jacket hanging in his mouth, eyes staring up at him.  “Could’ve found it myself, dude.  Now it has dog mouth all over it.”

But he took the thing from Cas anyway, his dog-self carefully letting it go when Dean cast out his hand.

* * *

“No no no, no dogs in my car!” Dean asserted when he saw that both Sam and Cas had taken places beside their usual used doors.  “You guys just stay here.  I’m not carting around a bunch of giants.”

He could hear Sam let out a faint whine from the other side, and suddenly he was standing on two paws, his other fluffy two resting on the hood of the car.  There was no joke about how damn Bigfoot he still was.  “Hey, Sammy!  Off, man!” 

Sam rested his head on the hood and was soon giving a whole new meaning to those stupid puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re gonna give me that?  Your own brother?” 

He suddenly saw Cas appear at the hood, too, as if there was some bandwagon train tearing through the parking lot, but his stare was more questioning than going for guilt trip.  All Dean could see was a ‘why haven’t we started driving yet?’

“You’re going to ruin my car,” he stated with cast-iron certainty.

The puppy eyes would not cease.  Then Castiel took those words and decided to defy what that meant.  Dean didn’t know what was coming until he suddenly saw the back door on the opposite side spring open and Castiel hopping inside. The door swung shut, with what Dean saw happened after a brief tilt of Cas’ head.

“Cas!  That’s just sick!  I told you –“ He was interrupted by a loud bark from Sam, who pushed off the car and gazed into the vehicle at Cas.  “Don’t you _dare_!” Dean threatened. 

A moment later Sam was in the passenger’s seat, slightly hunched over because his head was too high for the roof.  Apparently Cas’ was too, because his head was soon resting between the tops of the front two seats.

With nothing short of irritation, Dean swung open the driver’s door and joined them.  “This is really not right.  You’re going to stench up my poor Baby.”

Dean, in habit, turned his head to look to the back seat, only to realize Cas’ dog-face was inches away from his.  They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Dean uneasily turned away again.  “Just peachy.”

 

 

* * *

 

The entire day turned up nothing.  A whole basket of fucking nothing.  Dean had gone back to the diner they hit as soon as they entered town.  He literally drove under thirty miles an hour down the streets he took to get from point diner to point crime scene.  He got out of the car – telling them they better damn well get out of that car so it could air out – to inspect the scene again. 

The body was of course gone by now, but there had been nothing off about it when him and Sam gave it the routine rundown.  Well, nothing other than that they were sure this was another vengeful ghost gig.  Nothing that would turn two fully grown men, well, and one grown angel into two hulking mongrels.

Yes, he felt mongrels was warranted.  Because Dean thought that he might go crazy when only half of the day had gone by. 

Firstly it had been Cas barking right in his damn ear.  It started out soft, but then grew louder the longer than Dean ignored it.  All he wanted was to get to the next house they’d interrogated, but gradually he was forced to pull over when Sam started barking too, presumably to get Dean to pay attention to Cas.

“Dude!  Okay!  What is the _deal_?” Dean cried, hands lifting from the wheel after he’d parked curbside.

Of course he wouldn’t get an answer.  But Cas did it for him, quickly nudging his nose against the door, opening it with the mojo he apparently still wielded even as a canine, and darted out into some random person’s yard, squeezing through two neighboring fences to what Dean assumed was for some private space.

“He’s going to the bathroom, isn’t he?” Dean questioned flatly.  “He can go to the bathroom now.”

Sam had to have been laughing, because when Dean turned to him, his mouth was open and his tongue was hanging out, panting happily like stupid dogs did.

“This is so gross.  And hey, you go too if you have to.  Because it’s not happening in my car.”

Sam pulled back his tongue and closed his mouth to stare at Dean without humor.  A couple minutes later and Cas was finally seen running back to the car.  He had his mouth open too, and seriously, it took all of Dean to not visualize Cas himself, back in human-angel form, running from between two strangers’ yards because he couldn’t stand one car ride of holding it in. 

At least he had the brain to know what was going on and to not do it in his Impala.  Thank God for that.

“Feel better?” Dean joked as Cas jumped back in.  He made no effort to look Dean in the face.  “Well okay, grumpy.  I didn’t know you had to go.  Don’t blame me.”

And that was just the first thing.

Second time had been Cas darting into a house as soon as the man at the door answered Dean’s knock. 

Later he had to apologize profusely for the fact that Cas had come back out with steak miraculously in his mouth, and Dean could only guess where it’d come from considering it looked fully cooked and spiced over.  “I apologize for that.  He’s new to the unit… they haven’t fully completed his obedience training.  You know, normally I keep him in the car—“

“No disrespect to the FBI, but I’m done talking.” A glare and the door slammed in his face.

“That a good steak, buddy?” he somberly asked. “You better finish it before you think about getting in.”

So he was forced to sit in the car and wait, watching as Cas tried his best at being a dog, turning his head to try and tear pieces of the meat off one by one.  Why he didn’t just swallow the entire thing, Dean didn’t know.  In fact, he was getting a little weirded out when Cas shared the rest with Sam, who had been staring at the steak longingly ever since he saw it leave the house.  Cas nudged it in Sam’s direction when maybe half of it was left, and with no fucking hesitation Sam took it.  With a grumble Dean sunk lower in his seat, thinking about the dirt of the ground and germs and how they were sharing food and saliva and being dogs together and seemingly oblivious to Dean over a damn slab of meat.

* * *

But the real kicker was the third instance before they hit half-day, and that was Sam darting down the street with no warning.

“Guys, I am tired of you running off!  Stay the hell here!  I’m doing all of this for you, you know!”  Well, partially for them.  A lot of it had turned into for himself.  Seriously, who would want to deal with this?  He wanted Cas and Sam back as themselves - geekery, awkwardness and all.

He felt a softness brush against his hand and glanced down to see Cas nuzzling his head against the back of his hand.  For a second he found himself not caring, but them he remembered this wasn’t just some dog – it was _Cas_.  And here Cas was, imitating a typical gesture of affection for dogs.  His body decided to freeze up, only a single finger twitching.  Uh – what did he say to this?  He didn’t fucking know.  “..Uh, Cas?  What is it?” 

It was the sound of his name that seemed to get Cas’ attention.  He looked up from where his head had been and seemed to become aware of what he’d been doing.  Quickly he moved further away, sitting down quietly and rigidly, laughably like he often did as an angel.  Dean didn’t dare say anything else about it. 

Which was a lot easier than expected because suddenly he was sprinting after Sam, who had evidently run off toward the scent of a female.  It was a young woman jogging down the sidewalk ahead, and Sam was excitedly bouncing around her, his tongue happily hanging out, his stupid furry dog ears flopping, and to Dean’s absolute horror and amusement, sniffed her where the sun don’t shine.  “Oh my god,” Dean choked, finally catching up.  “Sammy!”

By the time he got there, the lady seemed obligated to stop, patting Sam’s contented head.  He nuzzled and licked at her hand, giving one playful bark.

“I gotta apologize for this,” Dean said, hand unconsciously at his neck.  He pat the side of Sam’s own neck with his other hand, trying to lead him back in his general direction.  “I’m still trying to get a handle on him.  He can get out of hand.”

She smiled, probably being polite.  “It’s okay.  I have one of my own at home.  Getting excitable is pretty natural for them.”

“Yeah…” he let out a sorry laugh, “I guess so.”

“That one seems to like and listen to you though.  She’s beautiful,” she commented, her gaze turning to Cas, who Dean hadn’t even noticed had followed him. 

Cas was observing Sam and the girl, and at Dean’s notice of him, he licked his hand a few times, doing the nuzzling thing again, which Dean would’ve jerked away from if not for the cute girl standing there being nice and admiring and normal.  Sam cocked his head at Cas.

“Oh.. yeah, this is Cas,” Dean replied despite the distraction, thinking he was keeping together damn well considering all the odd shit they were putting him through.  No need to mention Cas wasn’t female.  Specifics would make this whole thing a lot more awkward – maybe not for the girl, but for him.

“Well, good to meet you Cas and… you called this one Sammy?”

“Yeah.”

“And to you, Sammy.  My name’s Lily.”  She extended her hand and Dean took it. 

“Dean.”

“Well, I better get home before they start worrying,” she said, still smiling.

“Have a good one,” Dean halfheartedly waved.

And as she turned to jog off, Dean made sure to keep Sam’s attention, his hand at the scruff of his neck.  For a moment, he surreptitiously admired Lily’s backside.  Until he felt a rough nip at his arm, even through his jacket.  He jerked his head around at the white, staring dog.  “Dammit, Cas!  What was that for?”

Cas appeared to fret about, yapping as he jumped backward. 

“Whatever, dude.  I don’t get you.”  He turned back to Sammy.  “Come on, big boy.  Can’t have you running to whatever female you think is in heat.”

Sam barked at him, but seemed calmed down after getting a reminder of the reality that Dean was human, that Dean was his brother, and that he was human too.  Dean probably wouldn’t let Sam live this down for a while.

 

 

* * *

 

After the half-point, it had mostly gone downhill.  He couldn’t keep their attention for very long, and at one point they needed to stop for food, since Dean hadn’t eaten anything all damn day.

“I’ll have one double cheeseburger with fries and, uh.. two…” From outside the store window, he saw Sam lift his head up, “…double..” Another lift, “..triple..” The lifting stopped and Sam resumed wagging his tail.  “Yeah, uh, two extra triple hamburgers.”  He’d read somewhere that dogs got gassy on cheese.  That or sick, and Dean was sure as hell not going to risk that.  They’d go cheeseless.

The cashier gave him a strange look, but took his order and not a second was wasted when he left the shop than did Sam and Cas decide to hungrily jump on him.  Both… at once.  No more gravity and he hit the cement ass first, his hands shooting out behind him before his head hit it too  The food undoubtedly dropped to the side, and he watched as Sam used his snout to frantically maneuver one of the burgers out of the bag. 

“The one without cheese. Bitch,” Dean fired at the shaggy beast.

“Rrrrurf,” Sam barked back.

It was a fucking miracle for them that he didn’t have drinks in his hands. 

Cas made no move toward the food yet, instead stepping slowly to Dean’s side as he picked himself off of the ground, brushing off his jeans.  Looked like some of the skin of his hands had been victim, too.

Cas, seeming to finally realize that why yes, they were fucking heavy animals, lowered his head in apology.  A low, soft bark left him before he pressed his wet nose into one of Dean’s hands.  Dean could feel a fleeting, warm breath in his palm.  Cas did the same in his other hand before moving aside, a lot less aggressively burying his face into a bag to look for the remaining hamburger.

Dean lifted his hands, flexing his fingers, seeing the scraped skin had been healed.  Nothing but his normal palms remained, unscuffed.  Well, Cas redeemed himself partially.  More than he could say for Sam, who was tearing into his triple-stacked burger without a care.

 

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day was full of restless dog energy.  Cas kept pacing in the back, which was more like crouched down rotations because there was barely enough back to contain him. Sam kept pressing his paw at the window until Dean rolled it down for his goofy head to stick through.  Dean kept clenching his hands tighter around the wheel, keeping a fierce STOP IT FUCKING STOP from bursting out of his pressed lips.  All he could manage without breaking something in two was a “I can’t see out the back with you doing that, Cas.  Can you lay down?” And he _swore_ Sam let one loose more than once.

It got to a point where he absolutely had to stop the car to let them out.  It was ridiculous, but as soon as he spotted a park, he let them out.  He figured it was the most inconspicuous place for a man to go with two overcharged dogs. 

With absolute absurdity – this whole damn thing still was – they dashed out of the flown-open doors, careening toward the vast expanse of grass before them.  Dean couldn’t imagine what was going on in their now much tinier little brains to have them completely lose themselves like this.  Did they even know they were embarrassing themselves?  He hoped to hell they weren’t deteriorating in there, becoming more canine and less human by the second. 

Please, _please_ let this be temporary.

Sighing, he leaned against the front of the car, arms crossed over his chest with chin tilted downoward.  “Never going to get anything done,” he grumbled to himself.

He could hear the two of them barking – one of them the standard woof, the other that rough rumble of a sound – and he finally bothered to look up at them.

They were running around like idiots, mouths open like oxygen and exercise were the best thing in the whole wide world and monsters and ghosts were suddenly a nonexistent part of it. 

After a while it looked like Sam was getting bored of running in circles, instead diving toward Cas’ adrenaline-full, entirely unsuspecting form.  There was a staggered yelp before an onslaught of disorderly dog wrestling commenced.  They pounced, snapped at each other, leapt back, even got to rolling and twisting around, biting playfully into each other’s fur. Dean couldn’t predict the twinge that suddenly shot through him – an almost painful pang of loneliness. 

He knew it was messed up – but here he was, watching his brother, his two best friends, having an obliviously fun time.  Sure, as dogs, but hell – it was almost something _Dean_ now wished for.

 

It’d been forever since they took specific time off _just_ to hang out.  Dean couldn’t remember the last time.  Other than stopping at diners and long car rides listening to music, there was never… _play_ time.  Just some… worry-free, legs-kicked-up, baseball-game kind of enjoyment. 

 _Man, fuck this_.  Now was not the time to get touchy.  But hell, he was starting to feel almost jealous.  To top it off – something he’d admit to no one _ever_ – he could not get over how weird it was to see Cas like this.  Sam was easy. He was like some giant overgrown puppy already, but Cas wasn’t.  Cas was serious.  He wasn’t funny.  He wasn’t really all that fun, either.  And he definitely didn’t get a lot of what humans did, whether it be something basic or something a bit more complex.  And yet here he was, letting loose as a damn dog of all things.  He seemed to catch on just as quickly as Sam.  _With_ Sam.  They shared the whole dog thing, so now they were bonding.  Stupidly playing together. Sharing food together…wrestling each other…friends enough for that… sinking teeth into each other...

Why did Sam get to do that with Cas?  Why couldn’t the _angel_ Cas do that with Dean?  Why was he the one left out of that kind of unbridled warmth… energy… ferocity?

“Jesus,” Dean murmured faintly, shocked to feel his cheeks hot.  That thought process had spiraled straight down far too fast for comfort.  It wasn’t like that with Sam and Cas at all – well of course it fucking wasn’t and Dean wouldn’t want to think about it if it was.  But wait—no, _what_?!  It’s not what Dean meant for himself and Cas either!  _Dammit_ , he really needed to stop thinking altogether.  Because great… loneliness and now jealousy.  Things were looking up.

“It’s time to get outta here!” Dean shouted in their direction, where they were now resting, looking to be panting heavily.  Good.  They were done.

* * *

Downhill, remember?  For Dean’s mental state.  The remainder of that day was finishing off the houses they’d visited, up to the very last one where Cas’ terrible impersonation of Sam occurred.  Nothing.  And the entire time they were in the car?  Dean swore he felt a nose poking into the back of his neck, and a couple times more against his ear. 

 _Don’t think about it.. don’t think about it._   He was going legimately insane, Dean knew it.

_Imagine it’s some random dumb dog and not Cas in there.  Nerdy tax accountant angel Cas.  Yeah, nerdy tax accountant angel Cas sniffing him while he was trying to frickin’ drive.  Affectionately nudging at him, maybe.  What the hell did Dean know about the gestures?  Did he like it?  No he fucking didn’t.  If he imagined the scruffy, awkward man in the trenchchoat doing it instead of him under the guise of a dog?  Better.  But… NO, NO he damn well did NOT._

It was a good thing they were heading back to the motel, because right now all Dean cared about was getting the hell out of the car and washing everything that’d been in his brain today clean out of his hand.  A nice, hot shower might do the trick. 

That and hoping tomorrow one of those miracles Sam so strongly believed were possible would take place and he’d awaken to their entire problem solved.

 

 

* * *

 

 Sam had to do his thing in the small patch of woods sitting behind the motel, so Dean and Cas headed inside the room first. 

 “Showering,” Dean said shortly, throwing his jacket casually onto Sam’s bed.  Closest to the bathroom.  Who cares.

He glanced back to make sure that Cas had at least acknowledged what he said, and Dean tried to forget the look of woe in those eyes, as if the dog was going to start whining any second.  _Okay_ … 

Dean made sure to shut and lock the bathroom door behind him, even though one of them had the power to unlock and open doors. 

 

 

* * *

 

Dean stepped out of the steaming bathroom half an hour later, not caring how long he’d decided to milk it out for.  He just needed space from the two of ‘em.  He’d had to throw on the same pair of jeans and well, a clean shirt, at least.  He didn’t quite trust dog Cas to not be further strange and inexplicable, so this was his bed clothing for the night.  With an unwound sigh, he walked around to seat himself on the side of his bed.

Sam didn’t seem to trust trying to work his laptop – not with his humongous paws.  So he merely laid there on his bed staring achingly at it, his big head resting on his legs.  When Dean sat down, Sam’s eyes turned his way.

“Sorry, Sammy.  Tomorrow, okay?” He leaned over and gave him a reassuring pat, not sure what else to do.  Truthfully, after today and having no leads on the cause of this, he had no clue what their next move should be.  Rather, _his n_ ext move.  He wasn’t sure if they could accomplish much of anything.

Dean noticed Cas had retreated to a corner of the room.  The one furthest away from the bathroom, actually.  He sat there motionlessly, staring at Dean. 

Dean looked back at Sam.  Sam let out a huff like he was saying _beats me_.  Things seemed relatively back to human now, at least as far as that could go.  Sam was calm and himself.  Cas definitely looked more like himself.  It was like the entire day of their dog-frenzy-deeds had never even happened.

“You okay over there?” Dean casually asked.

Cas cocked his head at him.

“I know… asking you anything is a waste of time.  Oh, but try this,” Dean repositioned himself on the bed, “If you’re good, or if you wanna say yes, just nod.  When you’re not, or to say no, shake your head.  Easy.  I can try and go by yes and no questions while you guys are like this.”

Slowly, Cas shook his head.

“Ok.  So is that a not okay over there or…”

Cas nodded.

“Why – I mean, uh, is it because you’re a dog?”

He shook his head.  But changed it a second later with a nod.  On the downward tilt, Dean heard him growling, as if frustrated.  Then, all at once, a series of barks exploded from him.  Even Sam jumped at the suddenness.

Dean had to say – it was kind of scary, a huge-ass dog barking so deep and loud, like he was ready to rip a face off.  Cas had gotten to his feet and moved forward between the beds, causing Dean to scoot backward without thinking.  As the seconds went by, with Sam and Dean both unsure how to stop the fit, Cas appeared to get increasingly frustrated.  It seriously seemed as though he was yelling at Dean – for what he couldn’t fathom – but all of a sudden both paws were on either side of where Dean was sitting, and Dean scooted yet again, feeling himself reach the middle of the bed. 

Bad idea, he realized, when Cas used the exposed space to jump completely onto the bed, his huge canine form now quite literally hovering over him, if you didn’t count the legs on either of his sides.  Dean was flattened against the bed now, head turned in a wince as the surge of rough barking bombarded his ears.

“Dude, dude!” he shouted through it all, “Are you PMSing or something?  Because I swear--!”  He didn’t mean to cower like this, but there was very little more terrifying than having a huge dog bear down barking at you as if it was going to tear your throat out.  And this was his friend.  This was Cas.  He didn’t want to go taking out his knife or gun to get him to back off.  He only wanted to know what the hell was going on. 

From behind Cas, Sam had jumped from his bed and was looking curiously up at them.  He chanced a small bite at Cas’ tail, thinking that maybe he should interject somehow.  Amazingly that seemed to dull Cas’ barking, or at least snap him out of it, and it’d now descended into an almost gentle-sounding growl that vibrated in his throat.  Cas looked at Dean now, when before he looked to be lost in his own world.  He looked down at Dean, who tried to redeem his cowering by relaxing his flinching demeanor.  He let out a steadying breath of air.  “Are we okay, man?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.  Gingerly Cas nodded. 

“Are you going to give me some room?”

Hesitance, but Cas finally moved, stepping over Dean to allow him the room to sit up again.  He heard long, steady breaths leaving Cas’ nose, and he glanced back.  Cas’ head tilt toward Dean’s pillow, the breathing continuing, this time with a shutting of his eyes.  “What?  Sleep?  Yeah, I’m gonna do that.  But do me a favor and move your scary ass elsewhere.”

Dean wanted to shiver, but couldn’t get himself to.  Sam set his head on the edge of the bed, whining softly like he was sorry for everything.  “Hey, no big deal, Sammy.  We’ve handled things crazier than this.  Cas may be going insane, but hell, aren’t you?” He let out a laugh, hoping he didn’t sound too uneasy. 

Because, for a second there when Cas was over him in his frenzied-dog state, he worried where his own mind was turning.  All he could see was Cas, the _actual_ Cas, yelling at him in that gravelly tone they’d both become so accustomed to.  His hands planted by both his shoulders, his eyes burning into his own – always a burning, like he could see right into him, and his trenchcoat hanging down, shielding the both of them as if they were suddenly swept into their own secure hideaway.  And it scared the shit out of Dean. 

So he clicked the light off just like last night, brought the pillow over his head just like last night, and he closed his eyes yearning for sleep just like last night.

* * *

“Hello, Dean,” arose a voice from the dark.  Jolting upright, Dean turned to see Cas – the _real_ Cas – sitting on the opposite edge of the bed.  It was still dark in the room, and across fromm him Sam, still a shaggy dog, lay fast asleep.

“Cas,” Dean said.  “Why is Sam still..”

“You’re dreaming, Dean.”

“Oh.”  Dean lifted himself into a more comfortable sitting position, his back against the headboard.  “Of course I am.”

“I remembered I could communicate this way.  I should have the previous night, but by the time I considered it, you were no longer in a dreamlike state.  I admit that since I have become one of the canine species, my mind has been muddled.  Even visiting you now took far greater effort.”

“So you were sitting there watching and waiting until I went to sleep?”

“I know you do not like me staring for extended periods of time while you sleep, so I tried to avert my stare every three minutes.”

Dean wasn’t sure if he should even bother with thanks, so he went with, “Awesome.”

There was some silence after that, and Dean began to wonder if there was a point to this.  “Were you going to tell me something that could help us?”

“My knowledge seems limited to your own at the present moment,” Castiel replied, looking resigned.  “Generally transfiguration into animal without harm is the work of the being you know as the Trickster.  It could also be a form of witchcraft.  I do not see why the Trickster would strike now, on a low profile case such as this.”

Dean couldn’t help it.  Sitting here listening to Cas now, seeing him as _him_.  It really comforted him.  Dean experienced an worrying, unfamiliar urge to be nearer, what he’d say was to see if Cas was real enough.. to touch.  Okay, he would _never_ say that to anyone.  He’d just sit still right here.  That was absolute.

“I’d go with witchcraft too, but who the hell knows,” Dean put in, “There’s this whole thing going on with Michael and Lucifer and I can’t see any of what I came onto last night as being tied to them.  And why not turn me into a dog too, whatever it is?  I don’t get it.”

“I am sorry I can’t be of more help, Dean.”

“What can you do?” Dean weakly threw up his arms, which rested on his legs.  “And what the hell has been going on with you, dude?”

Silence.  Too much silence.

“Cas?”  Dean turned toward the man, trying to judge his expression with what light the streetlight through the curtains would allow.  Was it… a troubled one?

“I don’t know,” the angel finally said, staring straight at Dean.

“You don’t know why lately, ever since you turned into Fido—“ Head tilt from Cas, “That you’ve full-on jumped on me, been… _nuzzling_ me, licking my hands, bit my arm?  Barking furiously into my face just before we all went to sleep?”

With each example, Cas seemed to grow more and more uncomfortable.  He shifted where he sat, his stare dropping to his lap.  “It is difficult to understand emotion as a canine.”

“Well you’re not a canine right now.”

“This is just a dream, Dean.  I am essentially still canine.”

“But aren’t you projecting your actual self into this dream, leaving that behind?”

Cas sighed.  It was different listening to him sigh.  “I simply can’t understand.  In a way it is like working to understand human emotion, but these I have been experiencing are more potently carnal.”

“Carnal?” Dean’s eyebrows shot upward.  “Like what, jungle fever carnal?”

“No, perhaps that was not the right word.  Primal.  Simpler but… since I am unable to recognize many human emotions within myself, I can’t relate the differences I experience now.”

“Okay, this might be getting beyond my area of expertise,” Dean admitted.  He could feel the uncertainly prickling inside of him, not sure if he should aid his friend through this or run the hell away as fast as he could from the entire conversation.  He sensed it getting a bit too close to the mental betrayals he’d been suffering all day.

“However, I do feel some things much more clearly than when in my human vessel.  Certain senses were strong then, but now there are senses I rarely use being used as primary.”

“Sight, touch, smell, taste – that type of thing?” Dean questioned.

“Yes.  Smell is one of them.  I do not find myself needing to rely on that very often in my regular vessel, but now I smell… many things, and it is sometimes overwhelming, even for an angel.  We do not usually experience these aspects of mammalian biology.”

“Yeah, so what, you can smell birds from a mile away?  Maybe that woman Sam clearly took a whiff of earlier?” A smirk found its way to his face.

“It has been your scent, I have noticed,” Cas took this moment to stare at him as he said this.  The smirk slid off of his face.  “It is very strong and agreeable.”

“Dude,” Dean cried, hands coming up to rub fists into his eyes. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Why, Dean?  Were you not really curious?”

“No, no, _you_ just don’t tell _me_ I smell good.”

“Why?  Is this like ‘personal space’?” Cas asked, icing the cake with some quotation fingers.

“Sure, Cas.  It’s like that.  It invades my the personal mental space in my head.”

“That makes no sense.  There is very little space in the human brain, Dean.”

“Ok then.  Well why not Sam, huh?  If anything he should smell more than I do.”

“He does smell,” Cas admitted, “But it’s not a particularly agreeable scent.  Nor was the woman Sam seemed to enjoy the scent of.”

“Alright, enough with this _scent_ business.” Dean had heard way more than enough.  He didn’t need to add Cas smelling him to the list of images his mind was testing him with. “How about when you were barking at me earlier?  You seemed pretty damn pissed.”

“I was frustrated.  Communicating as a canine is quite useless, and I can’t say one word to you that you would understand.  I was merely venting and it got out of control.  I apologize.”

“Angels need to vent?  Shouldn’t you go to a priest for that?  Or God?”

Castiel glared.  “No, Dean.”

“Venting about what, then?” Dean asked with a low chuckle.  He was steadily trying to ease the tension he felt in his muscles.  He was too aware of Cas sitting there, not too close but not too far away either – these were damn small beds.

“I contribute the sensations to being canine, but there is a drawing to you that I…”

There was a pause, and then silence, as if Cas was reevaluating what to say.  Whether he was avoiding something or finding the right way to do it, Dean had no frickin’ clue and didn’t want one.

“Well, everything is much stronger now.  That is all I know.  I think I must leave you to your dreaming now.  I assure you that I will not intrude on them.” He rose from the bed, decidedly ending it there.  Fair enough.  Dean had no idea how to respond to what he just said anyway.

 _Drawn to him?  What, and it’s much stronger now, which implies he is drawn to him even when not a dog?  Hell, man.  Drop that on a dude before he has to go to sleep?  Drop it on a man who found his thoughts dangerously close to being drawn to a certain someone else_ _too?_

“You are also very confusing to interpret, Dean.  I cannot properly… absorb your emotions toward me,” Cas spoke from the side, clearly not gone yet.

“Emotions?  What emotions?” He suddenly felt defensive.  Castiel better not be able to read thoughts, too.

“Everyone is always undergoing emotion, even apathy is an emotion.  But I meant, as an example, when you stood and stared back last night, when teaching me about your personal space.  Were you trying to get inside my own head? It is curious that you would be curious over me,” Cas explained with that stupid tilt of his head, unaware of how deeply he was getting to Dean.

“I’m not,” Dean responded rather childishly, back on his side and turned away from Cas, his head pressed hard into his pillow.

Cas could now easily tell that Dean had taken on his defensive mode of acting.  Which usually implied lying or a crossing of comfortable boundaries.

“You do not need to fear me, Dean.  I will let you feel curious and emotional toward me.  I have no desire to judge you.”

The beds faded to black around him.  The dream was over.

* * *

 

 

 


	3. Peachy Level 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up. Moments occur. He doesn't really feel like talking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter's going to be ridiculously short, sorry guys. I just wanted to have some kind of update happening, since I think it's been a couple of days? Besides...  
> ........  
> ........  
> suspense, don't you love it?  
> PS. I didn't get the time to edit this portion either.
> 
> And hey, if you've been following this story at all, even if just now, mind giving me your opinion of it so far? I'm curious to see inward into your ripe old reading brains. I'll certainly be nervous to take on the characterization of the oncoming character, too. I don't know if I do the job right, but in all my writing I try to get characters as canon as possible (animal-ized a slight exception). Well, onward this goes!

* * *

Dean could feel the light shining against the back of his eyelids as he slowly but surely stirred out of sleep.  Dammit, one tiny space in the curtain and it had to remind him that daylight existed.  He rolled over onto his other side, face burying into the pile of fuzzy blankets.

He stayed like this for a while, continuing to doze, when suddenly the hazy shade of sleep cleared enough for him to realize something.

When did Sam and him ever carry along a pile of fucking fuzzy blankets?

Apprehensively ( _please don’t let it be what he thought it was, please_ ) he drew his head back, opening his eyes.  Alright, it was.  Dammit, Cas!  He wanted to yell, but he couldn’t.  The guy was just laying there all dog-like on his side, his middle gently rising and falling – _sleeping_.  Did Cas _ever_ sleep?  Hell, he didn’t think about it before, but maybe the last two nights he really had his first experience with sleep, and damn, Dean couldn’t imagine what it must feel like.  He just knew that for him, sleep was fucking awesome.  If only they got more of it.

But that didn’t excuse the guy for sleeping on his bed.  He’d had enough room to turn over, but aside from that, Cas took up the entire rest.  Luckily his head and body were facing in the other direction, but still, Dean had to wonder if he’d been like that all night.  Swallowing uneasily, Dean rolled around again, going for quiet as he left the bed.

And great.  There was Sam, sitting there with his head tipped, staring at Dean with that a stupid pleased look on his mutt face.  Even as a dog, Dean could sense the snark that was bound to happen if he had the capacity to speak.  “What are you looking at, Smokey the Bear?” Dean raised.

Sam looked at Cas, then back at Dean.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.  I didn’t know.  I was frickin’ _asleep_ , dude.”

He walked past Sam and toward the bathroom, feeling strangely like a teenager caught by his parents sleeping with a dude.  No, that would’ve been a lot worse.  Sammy was different, but still, what the hell was with Cas?  Every time Dean turned around, he was on his tail – in his space.  Could he not get the hint?  What was he, lonely? 

He stuck a toothbrush in his mouth.

Dean remembered the dream as if it had actually happened, which reminded him of how much he’d missed seeing _Cas_ Cas, despite it only having been one damn day.  He remembered how the man had said – well, he could ignore that part.  But seriously, drawn to him?  What did that mean?  Was it because he was the one who dragged his damaged soul up from the agonies of Hell?  Did that do something to an Angel?  Was there was something about him he’d been hiding this whole time of knowing each other?

Dean didn’t think he could handle this.  Them as dogs was enough crazy as it was. 

He finally spit the toothpaste out, observing himself in the mirror as he gripped the sides of the sink.  “Get your head together, Dean.  There’s some weird shit happening and you _need_ to get it together.”

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, Bobby.  Dogs.”

Dean paced around the motel room, cellphone to his ear.  Sam sat on the floor, watching him with ears perked. Cas wasn’t even awake yet.  How he wasn’t was beyond Dean, because he hadn’t made any effort to keep his voice down.

“Uh-huh, nothing more you can find on something that can transform humans, let alone angels into dogs.”

He repeated mostly for Sam’s benefit, not positive if he could hear the other end.

“Yeah, did all that.  Uh… wait.  No.”

“Come on, Bobby.  You try living with these two running around like the damn 2 Dalmations.  I was a little distracted by the fact that they were both--”

“Okay, okay.  I got it.  If it’s not a witch, you got somethin’ for me to get Gabriel’s ass over here, or do I have to find him?”

“Sure, got a pen..”

Dean gestured to Sam, who went to fetch their journal from one of the bags, a pen already in its inside.  Dean brought that and a napkin to the bedside table, choosing to sit on Sam’s bed.  “No, Cas can’t _talk_ as a dog.  I’d rather get this done today.  Sorry,” Dean tossed Sam a look, implying Bobby was a bit on the grumpy side.  But hell, he guessed he was a little irritable too.

He began scribbling down the Enochian.  “Yeah… okay…”

After about a minute of this, he finally set the pen down and got up.

“Got it all.  Uh-huh.  Sam’s a real behaved pooch, alright.” Dean tossed a wink at Sam.  “Thanks.  See ya, Bobby.”

Click.

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since I don’t remember that chant Castiel used to summon Raphael, and since he obviously can’t tell me now, Bobby gave me the summoning rituals that were in that horrible script we picked up way back.  Remember the hunt with the nerdy dude who decided to control all of those killer spirits?” Dean grinned, “And Tara.  She was so hot, man.  I miss her.”

Sam only lifted his eyes in a show of annoyance.  Way to keep to the point.

“Anyway, got it down now, so we should be able to get that asshole down here.”

Dean knew he should’ve called Bobby yesterday, as soon as this abnormality had thrown itself in his face, but he just wasn’t full of as much… juice.  There were some stretches of time in which he fought to suppress his growing exhaustion, and even though this hunt was pretty damn basic, this additional stress, along with the background problem involving angels they all wished they could ignore, well… tiring.  That was all.

Which he’d blame to be the reason he hadn’t first scoured the motel room for hex bags and all the other revolting crap witches got into.  He’d agree with Bobby this one time; he’d been an idjit. 

But he wouldn’t let on he was about done in, ready for days of sleep.  He didn’t want to let Sammy down.  He wanted to get to the bottom of this.

So casually he began to go through the room, which wasn’t much this time.  Peered down the radiator, behind the curtains, beneath Sam’s bed, beneath his pillows and blankets.  Sam shot him a look for that, then jumped on his bed to drag his pillows mouth-bound back to their resting spots.  Same with the corners of his blankets.

“Cute, Sammy.  So shipshape even as a dirty fleabag.”

Dean inspected the entire bathroom before it came to the last of the last.  And as if on cue, Cas flipped twitchily around – dreaming, maybe – ending with his head nestling itself into Dean’s pillow.  Dean was struggling between a straight face and dramatically throwing up his arms in amazement.

Well to hell with giving the guy more time to live through the wonder of sleep.

“Rise and shine, Cas!” He grabbed one of Sam’s pillows – which Sam hastily tried to chomp back into possession but missed – and threw it hard-ball-style at the giant mountain of angel. 

Cas instinctively jerked awake, looking wildly around before foggy blue eyes finally landed on Dean, who was standing there proudly. 

But neither Sam nor Cas seemed amused. “Home run,” he said, the words coming out quieter, the last breath of a dying joke.

 

* * *

 

So there was no hex bags or dead baby bone shrines hidden in their motel room, nor closely outside of it.  Not even in his Impala.  So he could probably conclude witches had nothing to do with this.  Their next best bet was the Trickster, _Gabriel_ , who Dean _really_ didn’t want to see the face of again, but when did he ever want to see the face of something he was summoning? 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	4. Peachy Level 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, sorry for being a little slow on the updates. I'm not sure what the normal update frequency is on here, but I try to keep the readers pleased. Also no time to edit this one, but I hope for few if none typos.
> 
> I'd quite love some feedback on this particularly ripe, young chapter. Pretty please with Castiel on top?

* * *

“Ah, Dean…”

Gabriel glanced around with some vaguely obscured annoyance, noting the ring of burning holy oil surrounding him.  “What can I do you for?”

“Did you do this?” Dean demanded.

“Well _that’s_ not very nice.  I only just got here.” Gabriel teased. “Why, where’s your evidence? 

Dean merely fixed him with a hard stare.  He didn’t like this, not again, not when it reminded him of the looming crap they had coming.  Dean had thought Gabriel was done with them, but hey, an arch-douche never really stopped, did they?

When Gabriel decided to stand there with zipped lips, Dean felt forced to speak.  “ _Them_!  Sam and Cas!”

“No need to get your macho briefs in a bunch,” Gabriel smirked as he finally acknowledged the two dogs at Dean’s side, which were both glowering.  “You two are the cutest pooches, aren’t ya?” He mocked, leaning over with bent knees. “Has Dean been comforting you with belly rubs?”

Sam growled.  Castiel turned his head and ‘hrruuf’ed softly.

Dean cut in before he exercised more of the baby talk. “Cut the crap, Gabriel.  Turn them back now, because this is bullshit.  What is it you’re getting out of this?”

“Other than my own pleasant amusement, nothing,” Gabriel tittered as he straightened back up. “But here’s a news flash: I’m not your guy!” He shrugged unapologetically. “Sorry.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

Gabriel appeared delightfully smug. “Well, yeah.” _Duh,_ was what Dean saw written over his face, and it pissed him off.

“There is literally _nothing_ else that could do this to them.  As an angel, I think even you know you’re the only asshole able and willing to turn Cas into one.”

“Hmm,” Gabriel mused, smirking, “Do you think?  I’d safely bet there’s something else in all this world that _can_ do this.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, still irritated but wondering what the hell Gabriel meant by that. “What’s that?”

“Huh, I don’t know, but it may just be in this very town, right within your grasp.”

Dean sighed, lowering his head to take a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “No games, Gabriel.  If it _really_ isn’t you, and you know what it is, just tell us.  You know they can’t stay like this forever.  Even you don’t want that.”

“What makes you think I’d want that?  What does any of this have to do with me?”

“Me punching you in that tiny douche face of yours.”

“Excuse me, but my _true_ face is beyond the size of your miniscule human fist.  You can’t _touch_ me.” Gabriel prickled.

Dean gritted his teeth.

“By the way, did you know giant marshmallow here _can_ leave his shell here?” Gabriel tilted his head toward Castiel, casually picking at one of his nails.

“What?” Admittedly, Dean was surprised by the random piece of information.  Somehow it was one of those things you sensed Gabriel wouldn’t be lying about, because why would he?

“What is that supposed to mean?”

A roll of the eyes and Gabriel responded, “It _means_ that he’s choosing to stay here with you.  Isn’t that right, _Cas_?  Cute nickname by the way,” he inserted, winking at Dean, “Because you see, we’ve all got our vessels.  Even though his is doggy style now, it’s still the same vessel.  He can exit it just as easily as any other day.  Can’t get back in when it’s affected by, well, what it is, but zap – back to heaven he could go to wait for some other idiot who prays for this job.  You know, I think he’s grown a tad selfish because of you two.”

Alright, Dean was getting frustrated.  What the hell did this have to do with anything?  Was he implying one of the angels up there could reverse all of this, and Cas was choosing not to use it?  Or was he jerking them the fuck around?

“What, so you’re saying he could go and get help for this?”

“No, no… I highly doubt that.  Things are in turmoil up in the clouds right about now, from what I hear.  Another curious reason it’s surprising to see him down here sacking with you.  But hey, I already gave you my insight.  I think it’s about time you let me go, seeing as I haven’t done anything? I _was_ in the middle of something.”

It hurt him to consider, but in all honestly, it didn’t seem the ‘Trickster’ was up to any tricks this time.  He was acting more like a pleasantly surprised onlooker, if anything.  Well… hell. 

“Fine,” Dean said, not any less roughly.

He leaned down to get a bucket sitting off to the side, then tossed it on a portion of the holy fire.

“Really?” Gabriel cried out, arms raised with a frowning face.  “ _Dog pee_?  Crossing the line, don’t you think?”  He looked accusingly at the two dogs of the group, Sam seeming markedly entertained by it.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, visibly not in agreement.

Gabriel slowly stepped from the circle, lowering his arms.  “You’re lucky this space of dirt soaked that up before more than a few tiny drops hit me.”

Dean stared at him, his turn for appearing unapologetic.

“You two better watch where Dean’s hands have been.  I know how much you dogs like to lick,” Gabriel taunted. “You especially.”

Daringly, Gabriel moved forward and tapped Cas on his furry white head. 

Cas snapped at his hand, but it wasn’t quite as fast as Gabriel’s fingers.

  

* * *

 

 “Well, this is awesome.  Still no leads.  Unless you count Gabriel _mysteriously_ ,” he made up wavy hand gestures, which was silly due to how annoyed he was, “alluding to the fact there could be a creature here, we’ve got nothin’.” 

Sam and Cas sat in front of him, Sam’s furry chest appearing to rise and fall with a sigh.

“I mean, we can’t just leave, right?” He asked, not knowing why because they couldn’t really answer, and what did any of them know, anyway?  Cas offered a nodding of his head though, meaning to say that Dean was right. 

“Right,” Dean repeated, “Because you guys will still be dogs and who knows, we might move further away from the problem.  And you know what, we still got a body to burn, dammit!”

That sudden realization seemed to sharpen Dean’s maddening lack of clues and pointers. 

“Guess I’ll do that,” he abruptly settled, walking over to sink onto Sam’s bed.  Dean had to admit that it was getting harder to hold up, harder to tuck away his weariness.  How absolutely lost he was right now, and all over the stunt of turning the two people he ever really had around into two now very silent dogs.

Sam leapt onto the bed beside Dean, probably wanting to be there as Dean opened his precious laptop.  Had to start somewhere, didn’t he?  Had to do _somethin’_ , didn’t he?

 

* * *

“I don’t want to leave because I sense that it is better for you if I am here.”

Dean started out of sleep, heart pounding in his chest with his knife drawn out instinctively in front of him.  But he was quick to lower it, noting Cas sitting beside him again, just like the night before.  “For fuck’s sake, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.  I did not mean to startle you.”

“Dude,” Dean sat himself up. “Is this still a dream?”

“Yes, you haven’t awakened.”

He must be pretty damn tired then, to not have snapped awake from this out-of-nowhere shit.  His heart still felt like it was steadily working its way into a calm.

“So what did you say?” Dean slipped his knife back beneath his pillow, vaguely wondering if it was still there anyway.

“I said that I don’t want to leave because I sense it is better for you if I am here.”

Dean felt a little weird all of a sudden. “You’re just a dog now, Cas..”

“I know.”

“So what’s better about it?”

Cas narrowed his eyes – that thoughtful, slightly confused look he was always giving Dean, as if he had to puzzle through the words he said.  Yet again Dean was all too aware of the too-small space and the solidity in which Cas appeared.

“Is it better that I leave?” Cas questioned. “I can acquire a new vessel in time, and return to help you and Sam.”

Dean considered that, but the only thing he felt was a hollow pressure in his chest, something he really didn’t want to be feeling because he knew how often it was caused by something shitty he _really_ didn’t want to happen.

“No, it’s fine – I mean, how long would that take anyway?”

“Much longer than one would think.  You may have to solve the case of restoring Sam to human on your own.  But I would return to assist you –“

“You know what? It’s okay.  You’re good how you are, Cas.  I’ve gotten so used to… you.  It’s gotta be a pain in the ass to go through it all over again.” Dean laughed.  Awkwardly.

Cas’ only reaction was to cock his head.  “I cannot understand or sense much of what Gabriel does, and it frustrates me.”

The change in conversation was embraced no matter how random that switch was.  “Can’t win ‘em all,” is all he said, not sure how to comfort the man.  He was aware there was that jump in rank between them, but hell if he knew what that meant Cas lacked and Gabriel was blessed with.

“He has spent a lot more time around humanity.  His mannerisms are very much human.  I could sense his jest.  I have learned a lot of that from your jesting.  But it felt like he was saying more.  More than I know about my own self.”

Dean thought of all that Gabriel said about Cas, how he was becoming selfish, choosing to stay here instead of take care of any business he may have going on the angel end.  Dean didn’t know what to make of it.  Dean didn’t want to make anything of it.  Dean remembered all of his recent thoughts, and _fuck_ , no he wasn’t going to go back there right now.  Cas was sitting right there.. sort of.

“You don’t have to beat yourself up over it,” Dean offered, not knowing exactly what Cas wanted to figure out so much, but going for consolation anyway.

But Cas still looked painfully mixed up.  Dean tried to catch Cas’ averted eyes.  “Cas?  You gonna be alright?”

He sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it, but Cas hadn’t looked at him this entire time.  Not even when Dean first noticed him there.

Dean felt really fucking weird now, but he was unable to stop the impulse.  The guy was still quiet, mouth parting as if he were going to say something, but then closing like he didn’t know how.  Dean attempted to _casually_ scoot across some of the space, _he wasn’t trying to cozy up to the dude or anything_ , and again to get Cas’ attention, he set what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Cas’ shoulder.  Nothing too crazy. 

Dean half expected his hand to move right through, as if Cas was all but a dream apparition, but he was surprisingly solid.  Real.  “Cas?  You there?”

“Yes, Dean.  I am here,” Cas finally responded, his body seeming to shift beneath Dean’s touch.  Dean took that as cue to let go, but as soon as he did, Cas’ shoulders seemed to sag.

And then with a short exhale, Cas collapsed backward onto the bed.

Which was awesome.  Because what Dean ended up with by the time his reflexes brought him far enough to press his back into the headboard on his side, well, it was a head-full of angel in his lap.  Having been sitting on the other side of the bed, Cas falling back like this obliterated all personal space. 

All of it. 

At least by Dean’s standards.

“C-Cas… uh..”

He didn’t know what to do.  Did he force him off?  Punch him in the face?  Alright, that seemed overly callous, but _What. The. Fucking. Hell_?  Dean wasn’t even this affectionate with chicks he slept with, and here Cas was…

And the worst part of it?

Dean could feel heat raging in his cheeks, way past the point of blushing.  Cas had his eyes closed, but Dean could see he was breathing.  And the more Dean stared down at him, he more hot he felt, the sensation snaking through him way faster than he needed right now.  Or needed _ever_.

This was just a dream, sure, but Cas seemed damn well capable of controlling himself in it, being he was the visitor.  Dean had no fucking clue what to do with his hands; they were still held up like he was surrendering to a force of lunacy.

Then Cas opened his eyes, dark blue boring into him whether Cas meant it or not.  “It is much better to be near you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, still frozen in place, scared as shit like he’d been with only the _image_ of Cas hovering over him.

“I do like Sam, but I found that you have been the one.”

“The one for what?” Dean at last managed to choke out.  _Talk about keepin' it cool_ , he scoffed at himself in his head. 

“The one I stay for,” Cas replied, as if the meaning couldn’t be more clear.

Suddenly he felt a hand around one of his.  “You don’t have to fear me. 

Cas’ hand was a little rough against his, but warm.  Strangely warm, an almost otherworldly kind that seemed to sink into him, more soothing than the heat his own body kept generating from an apparently endless fucking supply. 

Dean wanted to.  He could feel his mind screaming at him to.  To force himself away, to force Cas away.  But whatever freaky force inside of him was a lot stronger, and that one kept him here wanting this, feeling like he _needed_ this.  He missed Cas.  Evidently more than he thought.

Cas pulled his hand down from its ridiculous position, which seemed to relax his other one, which he lowered at his side.  He continued to let Cas hold his, his fingers tracing his as if the framework of it was beyond fascinating.

_Dean, Dean, Dean… what the hell are you doing?!_

But Cas was warm, and all of this felt so overwhelmingly alien and inviting.  And Dean was starting to freak out because he was human, and Cas was a frickin’ _angel_ , and he had _no idea_ what was going on.  And he didn’t want to ruin anything about this moment, whatever this moment was, and he didn’t know whether or not to hate himself for feeling just a little aroused by this, distraught between wanting to grab Cas by the face and kiss him – _why, why did he suddenly want to_ kiss _Cas_ – or to curl up into a pathetic ball and disappear.

Cas had pulled his hand down to where his head lay, which to his allure and dread, Cas tilted his face into, his prickly cheek gently nuzzling his palm.  Cas’ eyes slipped closed.  Dean, with sudden clarity, noticed his other hand had deceptively moved to the man’s head, his fingers running through Cas’ hair, through the soft strands behind his ears and around to the nape of his neck.

Dean could feel Cas breathing soft, silent breaths of air against his hand…

Dean was pretty sure he was going to lose it…

Over something so innocently tame compared to what he was normally used to, he could not fathom why, but dammit it was beginning to cause him to panic.  His hand stilled on Cas’ head, his heart was hammering in his chest, and it took all of him and more to stop Cas from continuing to nestle into his hand. 

“Cas.”

“Dean?” his voice was startlingly delicate, like all power in him had softened and made him vulnerable.

“You know we can’t do this.” 

 _Wait, why couldn’t they?  It wasn’t as if Dean made much effort to stop it.  Didn’t even_ want _to._

 _Because this was_ Cas _, his best friend, an angel, and Dean didn’t… Dean didn’t even go for this sort of thing.  Nothing against Cas’ choice in vessel; he was just strictly chicks.  A strictly chicks, strictly sex, no cuddling, and no petting kind of guy. That was all._

_Still, Cas wasn’t just some dude… he wasn’t anything like that.  He was Cas._

Dean suddenly felt remorse, like he just… killed everything.

Cas’ eyes opened.  The shade of blue his eyes had hit appeared darker than ever.  Dean swore it was like looking into the night itself.  He didn’t know if he should be terrified or sick, like he’d just kicked a goddamn puppy

“I see,” Cas said, watching as he let Dean’s hand slip out of his grasp.  Dean swallowed uneasily, feeling a huge disconnection sweep over him.  Whatever that had been – all of it – was no longer there. 

Cas was sitting up now, this time staring at him.  “Personal space,” he reaffirmed with a slow nod. 

And before Dean could say anything to that, Cas was gone, leaving Dean to a profoundly empty dream.

 

* * *

The next couple of days were more of the same.  A mixture of being driven insane by the growing _dogness_ that Sam and Cas seemed to be exhibiting, and the growing disappointment from the series of failures he led them into.  He’d done the ritual corpse-burn days ago – the day before Cas Kreugar-ed him again, in fact -- but that brought him little satisfaction despite it putting an end to some more murders in this peaceful little town.  All that truly worried him was Sam.

Sam, who seemed to grow more drained from uselessness by the day.  He probably needed his intellectual fixes to survive, and Dean felt bad as all hell for his little brother.  What did he need this for? 

And then there was Cas.  He seemed a lot more distant, sticking beside Sam more often than he lingered near Dean.  He noticed how much effort it took, though, because Cas seemed to gravitate toward him until he realized he was at Dean’s side, close enough his fur lightly brushed Dean’s legs.

Dean had actually started to convince himself that the dream had never happened, or that if it did, the bulk of it had been his imagination and Cas had left long before.

He’d rather have that than face that what happened had actually _happened_.  He couldn’t shake that he had hurt the angel.  So maybe.. maybe it had just been him – hell, this was hard to say – _fantasizing_ about Cas and so them being affectionate and then him pushing Cas away was just his way of running away from unfamiliar fantasy land territory.

He didn’t want to have to fucking think about all of this anymore. Them as dogs.  Him and Cas. Being stuck in a cold case.  Nothing more from Bobby.  Nothing suspicious in town.  He could tear his hair out, or in some moments even want to kick in the door of his precious Impala.  _Sorry, baby._

But you know what?  They were going to have a nice fucking day today.

He drove up to the same park as before and let them at it, knowing that they needed it, as fucked as they all were in this situation.  Each day they seemed to need more.  More playing, more running, more eating, more resting.  It was kind of lucky now that Sam and Cas could play as dogs together, because Dean couldn’t imagine having to play with one of them alone.  Well, maybe Sam was alright. 

He could do the whole _fetch boy_ and _roll over_ and laugh because Sam wouldn’t take any of that shit from him.

But if it were Cas, it would be infinitely more awkward.

He still sometimes felt jealous, watching them go at it, reminding himself of those highly rated reels running through his brain of tousled-hair, trenchcoat-Cas, but he was practicing avoidance by counting trees or checking out female joggers.

Or researching the shit out of the internet how he could, since he obviously wasn’t as savvy as Sam, but he was savvy enough and noticed Sam had most of the older information bookmarked.  Animal transformations, myths of gods and monsters who could once turn foes into weaker creatures… demonic rituals who snuck around the rules by turning human sacrifices into animals for easier capture… it was all a bunch of junk that didn’t seem to apply at all to their particular case.  And no one, absolutely no one had approached _them_ in any way.

“Kill me now,” Dean groaned, shutting the laptop, watching as Sam chased a goddamn butterfly and as Cas stealthily stared out at him from behind a tree.  Clever, Cas.  Really.

“Having a bad day?” Dean suddenly heard from the side of where he was lounging on a bench.  He turned to see a familiar face… uh…

“Lily, remember?” she laughed, “Mind if I join you?”

“Sure, take your pick,” Dean smiled back. 

Lily had her dog with her this time.  Not surprising, since she seemed to live around here.  It was small, black, sort of looked like Toto.  _Thanks, Sam, for the knowledge._

“Cute dog,” Dean remarked.

“Oh, thanks.  Her name’s Jessica.”

“Hmm,” was all he could say.  Sam wouldn’t like that name.  _Alright – he may have crossed that joke line._

“Do you come to this park often?  I feel like I’ve spotted you a few times.”

“No, not really.  Maybe two or three times, just to give those guys room to run around.  I’m just here in town for business.”

“What do you do?”

“Oh, mostly maintenance,” he made up on the spot.  “Cover all the small towns around here,” he added upon her curious look.

“I bet that’s exciting,” she laughed softly.

“Oh, you bet.”

Hey – wait, was this a chick that embraced and utilized sarcasm?  Right fuckin’ on!  He had already deemed her cute, but the more Dean-likey traits, the merrier.  Hell, it was surprising how well new company could distract him from everything else, as if normalcy waved and promptly invaded his mind.

“About that bad day of yours?” she queried.

“Yeah, well, a lot of weird stuff is going on in my life right now.  Trying to get it all fixed before I go nuts.  Typical stuff, you know, the usual... family drama” he shrugged.

“A fix-it guy in all areas, huh?  That’s a nice quality.”

Dean fixed her a look, lightly smiling.  If it weren’t for Sam and  Cas wandering around as dogs that needed constant transport, he’d be tempted to offer himself to get to know Lily a little more.  “Thanks, and what about you?  What do you do?”

“Veterinarian.”

“Well that's awesome.  An animal doctor.  Looks like we both got the fix-it gene.”

She giggled.  Pretty cute sound.

From a distance there was an impressively loud bark.  They both turned to see Cas staring at them, Sam nearby, curiously looking up from where he was inspecting a pile of leaves.  What a nerdy dog.  Cas, on the other hand, worried him.  He kept his gaze for a while, until – “Everything okay with Cas?”

Dean snapped out of it.  “Huh—oh, yeah.  You remembered their names.  She gets jealous when she notices I’m giving other people attention,” he gave a chuckle, keeping up the pretense of it being a her and not a him for whatever fucking reason.  “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, it’s lucky when they’ve got another friend,” she said, referring to Sammy.  “Say, speaking of friends, how long are you planning to be here for business?”

Taken a little by surprise, he straightened up, resting one of his arms over the bench so he could better face her.  “Maybe a couple more days.  Not really sure.  This job is mostly wait-and-hear.”

“Well…” she started.  “If you wanted, I could show you around.  I grew up here, so I know a good restaurant or two, if you wanted..” she asked, clearly nervous.

Her shyness was just too much to handle.  Dean grinned.  “Sure, I’d go for that.  Tonight?”

“I’ve got the day off.”  She seemed pleasantly thrilled by his yes.

“I can pick you up at your place then?  Or should I meet you somewhere?”

“We can meet.  We can go to a little place called Gertry’s Bar & Grill.  It’s pretty good.  On the corner of Sotter and Livingston.”

_Bar and grill.  What were the chances. Awesome female score._

“Got it.” A charming smile.  “I’ll see you around… six?”

“Six it is,” she agreed.

“Great, guess I’ll get going to round these two up.”  He lifted himself from the bench.

“Looking forward to it Dean,” she smiled up at him, cute little dimples cornering each end of her mouth.  Man, he didn’t like to be too crude, but he managed to get laid tonight – after what felt like ages of not getting any, that would give him the biggest break of his life right now. Just what he needed.

“I’ll see you later,” he said, sending a wink in her direction as he started toward the car.  “Come on, guys!  Time’s a wastin’!”

he called to Sam & Cas, unable to hide some youthful glee.

As he went to the driver’s side, he got a huge ball of overexcited Cas.  He kept jumping onto his hind legs at Dean’s side, rubbing his face against his arm, barking playfully, nipping at his jacket, and even a deep _whining_ left him.  Dean tried to ignore it – god how he tried. But in the end he turned around, trying to calm the guy down.  “Cas,” he felt ballsy enough to touch the sides of Cas’ soft white head.  He simmered down at Dean's touch, but his mouth hung open breathlessly.  “Something’s going on with you.  Maybe you think it’s something that it’s really not?”

Even out of his own mouth, it felt like the sharpest of needles.  Part of him wanted to slap his own goddamn face.  Why was he so adamant, so defensive about there being nothing going on with him and Cas? 

“Do you understand?” Dean questioned, keeping his voice low because he didn’t quite know how close Sam had caught up to them.

Cas shook his head and backed away.  No, no Cas did not understand.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean said, opening the back door for him. With some reservation, Cas finally lifted himself inside.

The terrible part of him hoped that tonight, if he got _really_ lucky, it would erase all of his mind’s want to battle over this frickin’ angel. And everything could return to before this all started.

 

* * *


	5. Peachy Level 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the delay on this chapter. I'd make an excuse, but I don't do those. I am a very easily distracted soul, and was taken away for a while. But I do hope this update is thoroughly enjoyed. Thanks to all of you who have commented and left kudos. I honestly didn't expect much response to my story. And still, if you want to critique, please don't be afraid!

__________________________________________________________

 

“I’m going out,” Dean spoke up when it was about half to six.  He’d done his best to get spruced up – hot shower, clean clothes, cologne – what else did he need?  _Hah,_ _who was he kidding?_   He wasn’t one to lack confidence when it came to the chicks, and he was pretty damn positive a bar & grill wasn’t a five-star restaurant. 

Sam had been lying on his bed, looking rather miserable, his woeful eyes looking around the room until hearing Dean.  His head perked up and tilted to the side. 

“I have a date with Lily.  Y’know, that girl you ran up to the other day.  Thanks for hooking me up, man.”

Dean smirked despite himself, not able to stop _some_ form of eagerness from revealing itself.  He had a _date_.  Hell, it’d been forever.  _Rea_ l food, beers, the possibility of mind-blowing sex... 

Sure, he hated seeing Sam looking so damn depressed, but he didn’t know what the hell to do.  If he had it his way, all of this wouldn’t have happened and if he were still going out tonight, he would’ve asked her if she had a friend his brother could go out with.  Make a double date of it.  But no, they were still dogs and he was at a loss and here was a chance to take a sorely needed breather.

“Oh come on, don’t look at me like that.  We’ve gotten nowhere, and it’s only for the night,” Dean countered Sam’s abandoned stare.  “I’d take you with me so you could run around outside or somethin’, but…” 

He passingly glanced at Cas, who was watching the exchange silently from the corner, his canine face unreadable.  Dean suddenly felt like he couldn’t say what he’d planned for the sake of not offending the guy.  Which he immediately fought because what the hell – it wasn’t as if _they_ were dating.  And _what?!_   How the fuck did _that_ prospect creep its way into his head? 

Quickly recovering, he continued, “Well… I might get lucky and how would you get back?” He dug for his car keys. “But look on the bright side.  You and Cas can hang out and have your own special sleepover.”

Sam was unamused.  His head lowered again, turning itself away from Dean. 

“Don’t get pissy, Sammy.  You know I don’t want to ditch you. Here.” From his bag he pulled out two bags of beef jerky.  It felt kind of ridiculous, treating them like actual dogs by pacifying them what could be considered ‘treats,’ but he threw one at Sam and the other into Cas’ corner anyway.  Neither of them moved.  “Beef jerky!  One of God’s greatest gifts no matter if you’re human or hound!”

It was his attempt to cheer them up, but his failure was starting to make even him sulky. So he sighed, pulled on his leather jacket, and moved toward the door. “I’ll at least ask her if there’s any weird locals in this place.  Try and get some ideas.  I’ll see you guys later.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t very long before Sam decided he’d fall asleep to pass the wearisome hours. Because what else could he do with his sizeable lack of fingers and the absence of Dean or anything at all involving getting himself from dog back to human? 

He walked in circles atop his bed, noticing in brief that Cas was still sitting in his corner, motionlessly staring at the motel door.  Sam then settled sideways against the pillows, snuggling himself into their comfort.  Sleep overtook him.

 

* * *

 

 

“I do not understand Dean.”

“Mmm…” Sam blearily grumbled into the pillow he was squeezing with both arms.

“Sam.”

“…Hmm?  Wha..?” the man very unintelligibly responded.

“You are much less responsive than Dean.”

That continued sound of a rough voice in the background of his dreaming lulled him into a more awake state, and unknowingly he rolled over to acknowledge it.

Upon seeing the man reacting, Castiel offered a “Hello, Sam.”

Sam finally opened his eyes at the sound of his name.  He saw a shadowy figure standing at the end of his bed.  Wait – what was going on?!  He blinked, jerking upward into a sitting position, blinking more rapidly to clear his hazy vision.

“ _Cas?_ ” Sam murmured, able to calm once he worked out what the threatening figure was.  Well, threatening was one interpretation for him.

“What are you doing here?  I mean, what’s happening?” Sam promptly questioned.  His heart jumped as he looked down at his hands – his human, blissfully familiar hands.  “Are we back to normal?” he breathed.

“No,” Cas replied, “You are dreaming.”

Sam’s heart suddenly sank back into its hopelessness, which had been growing day by day.  He felt useless to everyone, to everything.  He couldn’t research, he couldn’t question anyone, he couldn’t go to the library, he couldn’t do a thing.  He felt like tearing his hair out, but because he couldn’t even do that, he instead internalized it all, feeling more cut off the more time that went by. 

“Oh,” was all he could say.

When silence permeated afterward, Sam shifted uncomfortably, squinting at Cas until his eyes adjusted to the dark in the room.

“So what’s up, Cas?  Is everything okay?”

“I was hoping, being you two are connected by the Winchester blood line and the obvious knowledge of one another, that you could help me understand Dean.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, thoroughly puzzled and amused by what the angel could possibly mean.  And why he had woken him up for this.  “What, all of him?  There’s a lot even I don’t get.”

“I do not understand his attraction to all women, his need to be near them and to copulate with them.”

Sam choked on a laugh, running a hand through his hair when he was able to swallow it back down his throat.  What the hell was _Cas_ asking this for?  And in the middle of the night, at random like this?  Were there things he was missing?

“Can I ask what’s confusing about it?”

“All of it, unfortunately.  I know that it may be broad of a question.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure most guys like the thought of being… with a girl,” Sam tried to explain, feeling a lot like he was being led into _‘The Talk’_ with an angel of the Lord.  “Dean’s just a little more enthusiastic about it, is all.  You know how he is, right?  Booze, women, rock and roll?  The classic sort of guy.”

“I am not familiar with the traits of a classic male human, but I have noticed Dean’s partiality to those three things, yes.”

“Well that’s basically what’s Dean made up of.  Those are his interests, like how mine are… well, my computer, learning about things that pertain to our cases and uh, beyond that.  And you, I’m sure you have some interests?”

Cas paused for several moments, sporting his commonly-worn contemplative countenance. 

“I am interested in flying.  I am interested in being down in this world, assisting you two.  I am interested in the taste of hamburgers, since even this false dog vessel’s taste buds allow me it.”

Sam fought not to smile too wide.  Cas was listing these off so seriously and it was both strangely flattering and hilarious.

“I am interested in the way the stars appear from this position within the universe.  I am interested in De—“ And suddenly he stopped, unsure of proceeding. Castiel knew Dean enough to know that when it came to space, to emotional or physical vulnerability, that it was usually off limits to approach.  And to speak of it with Sam, he felt that might betray Dean’s trust. He sighed. How could he have no one to speak to about these confusions and struggles regarding Dean Winchester?  There were angels he knew would speak to him, he had gained friendly status with both Sam and Bobby, to his knowledge, and yet it felt as if he were stuck alone in the matter.  As he didn’t understand Dean, most seemed to not understand himself.

“What were you going to say?” Sam inquired gently, trying to be a good friend.  Cas did appear visibly troubled, and it was actually kind of nice to be able to talk again.  There were so many moments he would’ve liked to retort or even yell, especially when it came to Dean, but all that rang in his ears were barks.

“I can’t speak of it.  It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Alright… now Sam wasn’t sure if he should be further curious or cautious over the implications of _that._ Because he was pretty sure the guy was going to say something specifically about Dean.  After all, the main reason for this dream visitation seemed to be over the subject of his brother.

“Well if you’re wondering about the feeling of being neglected by Dean...” Sam started, feeling a tad uncomfortable, but deciding it couldn’t hurt.  He never got the feeling Cas judged him, so it was a _lot_ easier than talking to his brother about this kind of thing, “I guess I get what you mean.  This whole being a dog thing has made everything feel really odd, like I actually rely on him more like a dog would.  Which is embarrassing, but what can we really do, you know?  So it sort of… hurt when he left tonight.  I don’t know if you feel the same because you’re an angel and being a dog might be different?  But, uh, that’s how it’s been for me.”

When Sam finished, he watched Castiel somewhat expectantly, nervous about his reveal but relieved by the outlet.

“That is very similar to how I feel,” Castiel said, moving to sit on the edge of Dean’s bed as to not make Sam feel uneasy.  He rested his elbows on his knees as he looked at Sam with slightly more understanding in his features.

“It is a reliance I am unaccustomed to.  I feel very unpleasant over the thought of his presence being with anyone other than you or I.”

“Wow, a little more than me, but…was it even happening when he’s been talking to the residents in this town, or what?”

“No, that is fine.  I see a difference there. As I see a difference when it comes to you.  The girl, the one he is seeing—“

“Oh, dude,” Sam interrupted, _really_ trying not to laugh now.  “I’m not sure if you want to be getting into this with me.”

Sam was starting to wonder if there was more here than he previously thought.  Because to him, this was beginning to sound a _lot_ like jealousy.  He had no idea angels, or at least Castiel, could feel such an emotion.  In fact, it was strange in general that Castiel was feeling all these very human things to begin with.  He always came off as a very independent… entity, at least to Sam.

“Why?” Sam heard Cas ask.

“Because usually stuff like this is talked about between you and the person it involves.  I… am not that good with this kind of advice.”

“Oh, I am sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry.  Look, I guess I can at least say that what you’re feeling might be jealousy, but I honestly don’t know what your feelings are toward Dean.”

Oh god.  _Feelings toward Dean_.  He knew he could sense a little bit of a weird vibe between Dean and Cas – what with their long staring contests and ability to shut him out if the two of them were near each other, but he thought it was more of an angel-who-saved-him-from-hell-gratitude-bond sort of thing, not… _feelings_.  Not that there was anything wrong with that, but Dean… Dean did _not_ seem like the kind of guy who’d be into that.  Especially considering where he was tonight.  Even despite all that, here he was talking to an angel about possible feelings toward his brother.  His _brother_.  No brother wanted to imagine that.     

“So… yeah,” Sam said, “You can try confronting him and asking for a better way to understand him, or maybe try to tell him what you’re feeling, but I’ll have to give you a lot of luck on that one.  Whenever I bring up wanting to talk of feelings with him, he blows me off right away.  Those are chick flick moments for him.”

Cas’ head slanted, clearly not getting the meaning.

Sam laughed.  “It basically means he adamantly avoids all things involving emotions, feelings, showing that he’s sensitive, being affectionate, etcetera.”

“This makes things more clear,” Cas mused, standing up again.  “Thank you, Sam.  I appreciate your insight into your brother’s character.”

Giving Cas an odd smile, he replied, “No problem...”

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe an hour or so after Cas had left his dream, Sam was awoken yet again by the sound of scrabbling and scraping.  He groaned – internally cursing the world for not letting him get through the night quickly and in peace – and to make it worse, he heard a throaty growl rather than an actual groan escape him.

Raising paws to itch at his face, he grudgingly opened his eyes and faced the direction of the noise.  It was Cas, his giant white form trying to get a proper handle of the doorknob.  He was pushing at it with his paw, but because he couldn’t grip it properly, he couldn’t turn it swiftly enough for the door to click open.  So he tried jumping against it as well, seeing if he could force the thing around with his body’s weight.  Eventually it began to look absolutely ridiculous, so Sam dropped his way off of his bed and nudged the other dog with his head.

To his surprise, Cas started whining.  A soft, pleading whine that made desperation of whatever kind very evident.

Deciding that he wouldn’t ask for the sake of privacy and because he couldn’t ask in the first place, Sam lifted a paw and placed it on one side of the doorknob.  He lowered his head at Cas, hoping he got the motion to do the same on the other side of the knob.

Cas luckily understood.  Together they pushed the knob in the same direction, and when Sam heard a click he instantly hooked his teeth around it, pulling the door out before it latched itself again.

Cas barked at him, meant as a thank you, and wasted no time at all to nudge the door open.  He barely waited for enough space for him to slip through before he ran off into the darkness.

 _Well, okay._   Sam was alone now.  And since the door was open, he figured he’d wander around outside a bit and take care of… business.  Tugging one of their bags between the door and the frame to keep it open, he walked out into the cool night air and breathed in.  He didn’t catch Cas’ scent; the angel was already too far gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Oh yeah, he felt _really_ good now.  With a stomach full of a double-bacon cheeseburger, fries, and several bottles of his favorite beer, conversation that had actually been pretty damn entertaining, and finally the shy proposal from his date that they go back to Lily’s place – he was literally in heaven for the night.

They were leaving the restaurant, one of Dean’s arms slung in a gently teasing manner around her slender shoulders. 

“I don’t live very far away from here,” she said whilst beaming.  She looked to have had a great time too.  “Do you want to walk the few blocks?”

“That’s good for me,” he said. wearing his own contented smile.

His arm slipped off from around her to allow more relaxed pacing as they started down the street.  “So that food was pretty damn good.  Thanks for choosing the place,” Dean said.

“You’re very welcome.  I thought you might like it.  You looked kind of like a burger and hotdogs kind of guy.”

“I’ll just take that one as a compliment.”

“You can.  I like it.”

“And you’re really a Zeppelin fan?  Man, I have a bunch of their tapes in my car, it’s too bad.  But I don’t think I’ve met a chick yet who’s appreciated their tunes.”

Lily laughed.  Dean was starting to really dig the sound of her laugh.

“I do.  It was my dad who got me into ---“ she stopped suddenly, going silent and stilling in her steps.

Dean instantly did the same, an automatic response.  “What is it?”

“Do you hear that?” she whispered.

Even though he hadn’t, he focused his hearing on their surroundings.  Bushes to their side, the street and a row of houses on their other.  After a few moments, he thought he heard a faint rustling, but to him it sounded more like the wind than anything he and Sam hunted.

“Not really,” Dean finally said.

“I get the feeling something isn’t…”

Then, like a fucking projectile summoned from the air itself, a bounding force leapt out of the bushes, a terrible, rumbling growl issuing from behind its bared teeth.

Dean’s knife was drawn in a flash, something Lily didn’t even notice because she was shocked still, staring with utter fear at the beast in front of them.

Dean was going to lunge, but a second ticked by, the eerily familiar rumbling sounding too familiar, then “Cas?!  What the hell are you doing here?!  How—“

“Your dog, Cas?!” Lily cried, broken from her numbness.

“Y-yeah, I mean, sorry Lily.  I don’t know what the hell he’s doing here,” Dean tried to reassure, quickly moving himself between her and Cas’ large, intimidating manifestation.  He faced Cas though, eyes wide so he could properly communicate ‘ _what the hell do you think you’re doing, have you gone fucking nuts?!_ ’

Cas suddenly softened, seeing Dean before him, and he let out his doggish whine, moving to nuzzle his hand but halting when he saw the knife still gripped in Dean’s fist.  When Dean noticed this, he let his grip go limp, re-pocketing it.

“How did you make it all the way here?” Dean whispered, all at the same time astounded, humiliated, and angry.

And then he realized he was asking a dog who couldn’t answer him, and he backed up, shaking off the alarm of what’d just happened.  He backed up until he was at Lily’s side again.  For a second he thought she had her eyes narrowed angrily in Cas’ direction, but it was gone the second he caught her eye.  “I’m so sorry about this,” Dean apologized, feeling like his whole night might’ve just been shit on.  “This literally _never_ happens,” he added, turning to glare at Cas.

“It’s… it’s okay.  I thought I was going to die for a second, was all,” she breathed.

At the sound of her voice, Cas began growling again.  And before even Dean could react, because he had trusted Cas wouldn’t do anything because it was _Cas_ , the animal lunged the small distance forward, sinking his teeth into one of her arms.

Lily screamed, Dean could only shout extremely loud expletives at Cas, ordering him to let go, and just as he was going to sink the knife into the guy – feeling forced to do so – Cas let go and circled around, running a small distance away and then circling back to face them.  Dean could hear him letting out faint whines. 

But Dean was immediately at Lily’s side, holding her arm gently in his hands, inspecting the wound.  It was deep enough that blood seeped from several different holes – luckily not _too_ deep, but _fuck.  What the fuck had just happened?_

“Listen, I don’t need your help,” Lily very unpredictably snapped, yanking her arm back.  Dean unconsciously balked.

“You were just bitten by.. my dog, you should seriously let me help you with that.  I know how to tend to wounds,” he said with hesitation, a little offended by her response.  It was starkly different than the charm he’d experienced earlier.

“No, no…” she said, her tone softening when she looked at him, “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean was unconvinced.  He tried to gently grab her arm again, thinking that she was only embarrassed about it.  Who the hell cared?  This was fucking messed up and he wanted to help.  He couldn’t stand this.  Couldn’t understand why Cas had done this. 

He got her arm for a second, but that was all before she snatched it away again, hiding it within her jacket.

 _O…kay._   Dean swore that the arm that was just a second ago oozing with blood and marked with the imprints of several teeth had already halfway disappeared.

Dean confusedly glanced back to where Cas had stopped, and to his disbelief, _Cas_ stood there.  Cas the fucking angel.  Trenchcoat, dark hair, black boots Cas.

Despite what had just happened, he felt an involuntary wave of yearning, the sort that came with missing something or someone for far too damn long.

“What the—“ he spluttered, about to whip his head back around. 

Instead he heard a resounding crack, pretty damn sure the sound was in his head, and in a blink of an eye, blackness engulfed him.


	6. Peachy Level 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologize for the lack of update for what has it been? Ages? The perils of purchasing Skyrim and being a distracted overlord. I do plan for this to not happen with such a space of time again. I hope this chapter is enjoyed. Do let me know what you think, for it's the first time I've written things of this matter.

* * *

There was a dense, shadowy fog all around him, cool enough to prickle both of his arms.  He didn’t remember how he’d gotten here and sure as hell didn’t know where he was, but somehow he knew it wasn’t safe.

He brought one of his boot-bound feet forward, stepping against the damp  pavement and hearing it echo all around him, the sound deep within his ears.

His knife was out, held prepared in one hand as he stealthily made his way through, glancing around with each step he took so that he could squint into the darkness for any sign of danger. Where was Sam? Where was Cas?

As if the damn angel was hovering right above him and heard his thought, he suddenly heard a “Dean” in the distance, that gruff voice familiar.

“Dean, you’re safe.”

Was he? He sure didn’t feel safe. The fog was clearing, but he couldn’t see anything but blackness behind it.  Blackness and wait, what was that?  He swore he saw a swirl of beige disappear into the haze further ahead of him.

“Hello?” he called out, unable to hide his hesitation.

“Everything’s alright, I fixed it,” the voice said, its direction indistinct.

Dean saw them again – that beige – beige – what looked like a jacket – running on wind ahead of him. He picked up his own pace.

“What do you mean?” Dean called out.  “Fixed what?  Where are you?”

There it was!  He was sprinting now, feeling the cool dew of the ominous fog brushing past his face. He had no idea where he was going and couldn’t see a damn thing, but he sensed he was on the right trail.

Then suddenly he hit something solid and warm and – the hell – _glowing_?  He had a face full of the fabric he’d been chasing and he suddenly moved his head to see Cas’ face peering curiously at him, head cocked. 

“So you’ve found me,” Cas spoke.

Suddenly feeling awkward, Dean pulled himself away and straightened himself out, sliding his knife back into its set place.  “What, you didn’t think I would?” he found himself asking, staring at the white light that surrounded Castiel, watching as the dark smoke slid away like fearful snakes from its glare.

“Come back,” Cas said, “We’re waiting.”

“Cas—“ he started, absolutely confused, but two strong fingers pressed against his forehead and a second later he was inhaling a giant portion of air, his eyes snapping open to a completely different scene.  The motel room.

He was sitting up in bed, Cas sitting at his side, lowering his arm. 

“What the hell was that?” Dean demanded on exhale.

“You wouldn’t wake up, so I assisted you.”

“What happened?”

“The monster rendered you unconscious with a sizeable blow to your head, which left a tiny crack in your skull.”

“What?!” Dean exclaimed, instantly bringing a hand to feel at his head.

"Do not worry. I healed you, but it took longer than expected for you regain consciousness.  As for the monster… it got away.”

Dean shut his eyes, relieved.  When he reopened them, he was finally able to let the fact sink in that Castiel was sitting in front of him.  And not as an overgrown blizzard of a dog, but as his usual man-self.  An overwhelming urge to hug the guy washed over him, but too prideful of his masculinity, he held it back and merely muttered a soft, “Thanks, man.  No problem. Now that we know who she  is, we’ll get her.  I was pretty damn stupid, huh?  Couldn’t even call it right when I ran into her the first time.  None of us could.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean. It’s a very clever creature. I haven’t had an encounter with one of its kind before. It is very new to me.”

“New to even you, huh?  Well that’ll make things interesting,” Dean teased, “If even an angel can’t keep up with it, it’s gotta be skilled.”

A bark resounded from the side of them, and Dean turned to see that Sam was still there, watching the scene with confusion written all over his canine face.  His ears were perked up, his head to the side, worry shining behind his hopeless eyes. 

“Hey, Sammy. Don’t worry about a thing.  We’ll get you back to normal. Cas here… well, wait, how’d you change back, anyway?”

“It seemed to have been the blood of the creature that broke the spell.  Some entered my system when I… attacked her.” Cas looked away awkwardly at the end of his sentence, chin tilted upward.  Dean noted this, knew it was a sign of the rare occasions Castiel underwent discomfort of some kind, and yet didn’t want to risk asking. 

“So it’s some kind of new witch breed?” Dean questioned instead.

“Well… no.  It is of an entirely different kind of being, but it appears capable of spells.  Here, I am sorry that I had you waiting, Sam.”  Cas stood up from the bed, a vial filled with a very tiny amount of thick, dark fluid held between his fingers.  “This is more of its blood. If you drink it, you should return to normal.”

Sam cocked his head to the other side.

“Where’d you get more?” Dean asked, moving off of the bed himself.

“This was the remaining sample within my mouth.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. “Uh-huh, so you want Sam to drink blood that you got straight out of your mouth, with your spit and everything?”

Castiel shot Dean a judging look, clearly not seeing any issue.

“Hey, I’m good.  It’s up to Sammy.  Just a little weird,” Dean defended with both hands up. 

“I assure you that I purified it to the best of my ability,” Cas assured, kneeling himself down in front of Sam, who sat there looking between both Dean and Cas, obviously noticing the weird in the situation as well, since apparently it could get even moreso than him still sitting there as an abnormally large dog.

“If it means being you, man,” Dean shrugged.

That seemed to resign Sam, because he opened his mouth wide, revealing his sharp sets of teeth in waiting for the vial to be poured onto his tongue.  Castiel did so without delay, all of them watching and waiting when Sam rolled his tongue back into his mouth.

And it was weird.  Inexplicably weird.  Dean didn’t think he needed to see an animal-to-human transformation again.  Ever. 

Seconds later Sam was himself, towering over them once more, surprisingly and thankfully still clothed – something they all hadn’t really thought to prepare for.  But since Cas had come back trenchcoat and all, Dean breezed past any shock.

Instead he felt tremendously glad to have his stupid geeky brother back in front of him.  So much so he couldn’t resist a hug this time, going in for it with an affectionate slap to the back.  He got those long yeti arms in return, and nothing felt better than everything being back to normal, those goddamn mutt moments finally behind them.  Dean let go of Sam and for some reason hadn’t escaped the moment, because Cas was soon standing shocked still between another one of Dean’s hugs. 

He didn’t know how to react, but he knew what he felt, and he could not stop the warm prickling that worked its way through him at the contact, climbing its way through his body like tiny shots of lightning.  It was entirely unexpected and Castiel could only let it occur, his arms bound to his sides because he hadn’t the knowledge to open them beforehand.

Dean didn’t seem to care. He let go and was beaming at the both of them.  “You have no idea how great it is that you two are back to being _you_.  I swear the universe had it out for me.”  He had one hand run through his hair as he paced about in a thrilled loss for more words.

“Oh yeah, just you,” Sam countered flatly, but a moment later unable to help a little smile from breaking through.  Really, how could he deny that being human again was the most beautiful thing to ever happen to him lately?

“Thanks a lot, Cas,” Sam sent the angel’s way, genuinely grateful despite the fact he had semi-swapped saliva with the guy.  But hey, what else could he have done? He wasn’t going to ditch the chance at freedom from that dog shell over what he was sure Dean would immaturely deem as _cooties_.

“You’re welcome, Sam.” Cas responded, though as always, his eyes were on Dean.  Oh right, Dean.  Sam remembered that one conversation with Cas and abruptly wished he hadn’t.

Luckily for him, Dean interrupted all thought process with a proposal of celebration.  “We should all go out and get some burgers.  Just relax.  Have a normal, human day, you know what I mean?  Well, as human as it gets for you, Cas,” he offered at the end, catching the angel’s stare as he glanced over.

To his horror, he felt heat rise in his face, his body making him blush like some kind of schoolgirl.  His head suddenly dropped, focusing on the floor at some random piece of lint.  Sam chimed in at the right moment this time.

“I don’t know, Dean.  Don’t you think we should get on the case of the creature before it gets too far away, assuming it’s gone anywhere at all?  Maybe I should do some research, now that we know a few more details?”

“Oh come on, Sammy,” Dean objected, “You’ve been a dog for days.  It’s been lonely.” And as soon as that came out of his mouth, jokingly or not, Dean felt oddly embarrassed.  Sam seemed surprised too, his eyebrows raised, but he didn’t poke at the fire, thankfully.

“I think we all were.  We couldn’t even talk to each other.  I’m just saying… to prevent it from ever happening again, don’t you think we should get the thing out of the way right now instead of later?”

“Sam is right,” Castiel joined in.

“Like a burger’s gonna hurt,” Dean persisted.

“Didn’t you just eat?” Sam asked, recalling the date not happening too long ago.

Silence broke out, Dean and Sam exchanging equally tiring looks.

“Fine,” Dean gave in, “We’ll see if we can track it.  I give up. No fun to be had with you two party crashers.”

* * *

 

Two hours later, they hadn’t found a thing.  But they at least had their own facts to go on, which were as follows, written on a list Sam had made out:

  1. The thing had the power to turn both humans and angels into lesser animals.
  2. It’s blood held the cure to this power. 
  3. From what Dean had shared, it had the ability to quickly heal its wounds.
  4. It could take the shape of a human, if it wasn’t somehow already one, and it get past the supposed scrutiny of a professional monster hunter with its convincing charm. 
  5. It had considerable strength to have hit Dean hard enough to knock him out.



 Then there was what they didn’t know:

  1. Why them.
  2. What it had wanted from Dean, since he appeared to be the primary interest (ex. the date).
  3. What becoming dogs accomplished for it, rather than killing them.
  4. Gabriel wasn’t a fucking help.
  5. Cas couldn’t track it, so what did that mean?



All in all, they were a little stuck, at least in regards to where they could find it. Dean had noted she’d talked about having dogs of her own back at home, and from the sounds of it that had been nearby where they’d run into her jogging, but they couldn’t be sure if that was a complete lie, like most monster cases were.  It knew of human interests, such as popular music, Dean also noted.  But Sam was forced to set down their potentially useful and also somewhat useless list on the bedside table.  He rubbed at his eyes. 

“Well, it’s all we have for now, but maybe we can go out and take a look around?”

“Where?” Dean asked, not sounding motivated.

“I don’t know..”

“Exactly. We have no idea where the thing might be living, other than in the general area of that neighborhood we were in before, and even that’s a big chance.  How can we expect it to jump out and yell ‘come and get me!’?”

Dean was pretty disappointed, too, that it had ended up this way.  What a cute girl, and the whole thing had been torn to pieces by the fact that she was now some life-ruining monster.

“As intelligent as it might be, it wasn’t intelligent enough to predict me interfering with its attempts to get close to you,” Cas chimed in, completely deadpan.  Sam and Dean turned to look at him, quiet with the implications of his words.

Cas simply returned Dean’s look.  “It could be important,” he added.

Dean didn’t have the brain power to want to think about what any of that meant right now. It was midnight and he already felt exhausted.

Sam quietly cleared his throat.  “So why, exactly, did you go running to where Dean was?  You didn’t sense she was a monster?  It was just…?”

“I… don’t know. I just felt that it was wrong.  The situation. I had to be there.”

Sam shot Dean a look while Cas was busy staring at the carpet, and Dean only had the heart to shrug.  What could be possibly say to Sammy about all the mind fuckery he’d been having when it came to him and Cas that wouldn’t get weird?

Cas continued, “I couldn’t tell it was a monster, no. But it… and Dean..”

“You know what, it’s fine Cas.  It’s great you did what you did, because if not we’d both still be in the same place,” Sam calmed the increasingly confused angel, also wanting to clear the sudden tension in the room.

“I’m gonna shower.  I don’t feel right after going out with the thing,” Dean said as he strode across the room to the bathroom.  “I think we should call it a night.”

“You’re probably right,” Sam agreed.  He shut the laptop he’d had open on his lap. How good it felt to finally be able to use it again.  To be able to contribute to _anything_ felt good.

The click of the bathroom door’s lock sounded behind them.

“You going to be okay, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam.  Thank you.”

* * *

“Stop freaking out, man,” Dean spoke softly to himself, staring at himself in the mirror, clad in clean boxers and hair damp from the shower. “You let go, you did.”

It had been normal. Just like with Sam, which hadn’t been a problem. But as soon as that carefree release took over, he couldn’t keep from hugging that damn stupid angel.  He’d admit it - he was just as glad to have the guy back as he was his own little brother.  But hugging him was different, so goddamn and frustratingly _different_. 

There was the urge.  This upsetting _need_ for him to be closer. 

With all his recent memories, that was what it always came down to, and he cursed himself and his poor choice to shower, one of the few times he’d unintentionally let loose all of these stray, strictly locked-away thoughts.

When Castiel had been snarling over him as that massive dog, his mind promptly registering the angel there instead, hovering over him like nothing else but the two of them existed in the world – Dean wanted to lean, to reach, to do _anything_ to get closer to his ever-elusive being.

When Castiel had been standing so close to him, testing Dean’s limit of space, all Dean wanted to do was disappear into those inexplicably blue eyes, to see the damaged soul that Castiel must see, to see Cas’ own.

When he’d been dreaming, and Castiel had fell into him, so trusting and close, burying himself into his hand as his head rested in his lap – Dean felt he _needed_ to bring the angel close, to assure him he was there.  To join them the only way he knew, to kiss him, to let the stony walls around himself crumble.

When they’d been out at the park, Cas horsing around with Sam in the grass, and how Dean could only imagine Cas as he was now, wishing they were free from all the care that prevented them from doing the same, barriers unbound…

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, fingers pressing harder into the sink counter.  “Please, this can’t happen.”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to, but anyone would do. He could barely keep composed, heat already searing through him, not able to control the onslaught of images that came with his series of incessant thoughts.  He let go of the sink, trying to focus on drying himself off so that he could get dressed and go to sleep and hopefully have that be the end of all of this, but _hell_.  _Where was all of this coming from?_

He closed his eyes, in bed now.

* * *

A soft rush of a sound, like feathers ruffling and settling, and Dean knew what to expect as he opened his eyes, seeing the bathroom tiles again, suddenly back to where he was, barely clothed and still damp, that fluttering heat from earlier in full force like it had never gradually settled. 

This fact alone made turning around thousands of times more uncomfortable.  And when he did, he gave Cas a disapproving look, leaning away in what small space allowed for the given choice of room.  “Seriously?”

“I apologize, Dean. I thought you would be finished. I heard the water stop quite a while ago.”  Castiel appeared flustered himself, his eyes cast downward before they decided to quickly turn toward a side wall.

“Uh-huh.. and you’re still here,” Dean said quietly, attempting a step back and feeling the heel of his foot hit the wall.

“This was of importance.  I—“

“It can’t wait?  I’m not even _dressed_ , Cas.  The door’s still locked, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Well.” Dean raised his arms and made a face as if the conclusion to this situation was obvious.  It was taking all of himself to soothe the heat that was now raging at Cas’ proximity.  He felt both furious at this fucking terrible timing and horribly close to abandoning all self-control.

“It is about my recent actions. I felt I must tell you that I’ve been unable to think…”

Dean’s fingers curled into fists at his sides as he watched Cas struggle to finish what he was going to say.  He saw the almost fearful way Cas’ gaze went from the floor up to Dean’s face, and he couldn’t help but think of Cas’ look of pure terror in that ‘din of sin’ he’d dragged the angel into. 

“… think clearly, of anything but you.  It is overwhelming, not only as an angel, but in a startling human way, and I cannot fathom why. It arose with your scent, it progressed with your touch, it—“

“Cas, stop.”

“Dean, I—“

“Stop talking. I can’t hear this.”

“Why— Sam suggested—“

“No. _No_.”

Dean sucked in and grabbed Cas’ shoulder, leading him toward the bathroom door, intent on getting the angel the hell out of here before he made things ten times harder for Dean to cope with.  The touch alone sent a shiver down his spine, but he worked his way through pretending that had never happened either. 

Castiel was confused, trying to look back at Dean. “What is it you can’t hear?” the angel questioned.

“You have no idea what any of this is,” Dean retorted shortly, hearing the pain in his voice and nearly wincing.

They were right at the door, Castiel facing it and Dean still holding his shoulder from behind. 

“Do you?” Cas probed.  “I didn’t finish what I had been saying.”

“Dammit, Cas..” Dean dropped his shaking head, and Castiel was able to turn himself around to watch as Dean let out a shuddering breath. He took that as a sign of distress, something he didn’t encounter in Dean very often.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “I have told you to not fear me or my judgment.” There was silence, then, “I think I… understand what this fear feels like.”

“Cas,” Dean muttered gruffly, still staring downward.

Castiel did nothing but listen closely to the man.  But rather than receiving any insight into Dean, as he was hoping for in their exchange, what he received was Dean’s mouth against his own, their lips flush against each other.

Cas’ eyes widened.  Dean’s were closed – he could feel the faint brush of his eyelashes, could feel the small bolts of lightning crackling through him, leaving pleasant pools of warmth in their wake.  “Dean—“ he tried to say, voice without control, breaking before he could stop it. 

Dean seemed intent to stop him anyway, the man’s hands reaching up to grasp at the sides of his head, fingers tangling and pulling at the dark strands.  Castiel felt himself being pulled closer.  He could feel a pulse inside of him quickening., yet outside he was stunned into stillness.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, breaking away, revealing to Cas for a moment the extraordinarily beautiful, plagued soul that hid behind those green eyes. “You kiss back.”

Castiel didn’t know what that meant – had never had the experience to know – but he closed his eyes all the same, meaning to try and mirror Dean’s actions.  He leaned forward this time, pressing his lips to Dean’s.  His own arms reached up to gently hold the sides of Dean’s face.  He could feel stubble beneath his thumbs, and then suddenly the physical force of the moment escalated.

Dean, still using the grip of Cas’ hair, pushed the angel back against the bathroom door, pressing the entirety of his body into his open trenchcoat, into his white-collared shirt, into his black slacks.  His lips parted against Cas’, and Cas did the same.  His arms felt confined, so Cas lowered them to wrap around Dean’s lower back, pulling him closer, feeling that this was what Dean was striving for.  The warmth and lightning were already leaving him breathless; he couldn’t help his fingers curling into Dean’s bare skin as he felt the man’s tongue brush beneath his upper lip.  Testing his own tongue, he slid it against Dean’s, tasting him. A very new, thrillingly _Dean_ taste.

Dean let out a low moan, which was felt in the kiss and drove his own loss of control.  Castiel arched himself away from the door, pushing into Dean, his wings unfolding as he did so.  They rustled around them, invisible to Dean, curling around just enough so the ends brushed softly against the man’s back.

Straightaway the kiss ended, and Castiel was suddenly left with a profound feeling of emptiness.  Of cold.  Dean suddenly wasn’t there.  He had slipped beyond his grasp.  His wings folded back into himself, shoulders unconsciously hunching over.

“Holy shit,” he could hear Dean saying.  “I _didn’t…_ ”

Castiel’s cool eyes opened to see Dean standing as far away from him as was possible.

“I’m dreaming, right?”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but felt something in his throat preventing him.  He swallowed and felt now an unpleasant temperature rising to the corners of his eyes.

“ _Right_?” Dean repeated, nearly pleading this time.

Finally, “What’s the matter, Dean? Would you prefer this to be a dream?”

“I was in bed and I closed my eyes and fell asleep—“

“You never left this room, Dean.”

“So this is real? This really happened?”

“It did.”

“Your wings…”

“I apologize if that that was inappropriate…”

“I can’t—I just… this whole thing.. sorry, Cas, I need to get out of here.”

And even though he damn well knew he was in his boxers, he pushed past Cas to reach the door and swung it open once unlocked, walking past a bewildered Sam and outside into the night to the old comfort of his Impala.

From within the bathroom there was the sound of a rushed, rustling wind.

* * *

 


	7. Peachy Level 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather singularly focused, but I hope all of you grand readers so far end up enjoying it. Do share your deepest thoughts.

* * *

 

“Dean!” Sam called out, leaning out of the motel doorway and into the crisp night air, “You want some pants?”

“No, I don’t want any goddamn pants!” Dean shot back, slamming the Impala door as soon as he was safely inside. 

A thoroughly confused but gradually compliant Sam pulled back into the motel room, a ‘won’t even ask’ clearly plastered on his face. 

Dean breathed out, fingers clenching the steering wheel. It was cold in the Impala, the leather a little uncomfortable beneath the bare skin of his legs, but he only barely cared. All that mattered was getting the hell out of there.  Heat still pulsed through him and goddamnit, he knew his mind had finally taken him too far.  His body confirmed that… hard fact.

With an unsettled groan he rested his forehead against the wheel, between his tightened hands.  That – whatever insanity it had been – had felt inexplicably and so horribly _good_.  It was like days... months... _years_ of a pent up stiffness had been released by way of the sensation of Cas’ lips pressed against his.  A current of pleasure had swept its way through his entire body, taken him over, made him crave more and more of the nearness his dead willpower granted them.  He’d barely kept himself together – and when did he ever slip like that over a damn kiss?  Wasn’t even second base.

But it was a kiss with _Cas_.  _CAS_. 

And then, to make everything even weirder, to have felt that feather-light touch gently brush along his back – it was like taking a frickin’ tazer to the pleasure current, multiplying it to a surreal level.  It surprised him enough into finally jerking away, and thank god it had, or he couldn’t be sure what embarrassing thing would’ve happened.  But oh god – it was _Cas_.  _HE KISSED CAS_. 

Ok, sure, that Cas was physically a _man_ was strange enough for Dean.  He’d never considered himself gay in any sense and this was definitely worth freaking out over, but he knew deep down it wasn’t as big of a deal as Cas being a frickin’ _otherworldly being_. 

What would this mean, and what the hell did it mean that Cas had kissed back?  It had come with a bit of leading – of course Cas wouldn’t know what the hell was happening, being Cas -- but Cas didn’t stop it either, and if anything the angel had led them to this all along… with his initiated affections and all of that.

“Come on, calm down,” he coaxed himself, willing himself to stop goddamn thinking before his head decided to spontaneously explode.

 

* * *

 

 

Cas reappeared in the motel room after a few minutes had gone by.  He found it difficult to process what had just occurred, especially in regards to how he should be feeling about it.  Feeling, he could obviously say, was more foreign to him than it was to Dean, Sam, and every other human on this planet.

But he knew he was undergoing something unpleasant. At least since Dean pulled away and proceeded to disappear in what Cas took as fear.  What had been the matter? Had he done something wrong? He knew how humans appeared to enact their fond feelings for one another, and knew kissing was included among them, but he also had no experience because he wasn’t from here.  Maybe he had hurt Dean?

Dean had been the one to instigate it, so that couldn’t have been the issue?

Sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed, Cas rested his head in his hands. His brow furrowed as he tried to understand, as he always had to do with Dean in comparison to the world’s overabundance of other plights.

“Where did you go?” he heard Sam ask, Cas lifting his head to see surprise on the man’s face.  The motel door had just clicked shut.

“To talk to Dean,” he promptly replied.

“Just now?” Sam’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not many minutes ago.”

“So you’re the one that made Dean run out of the bathroom in his boxers?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.  Well, I guess you could’ve picked a better time.”  Sam laid back down on his own bed – exactly where he’d been before the random escape occurred. So much for trying to get some sleep.

“I felt the need to get it out of the way.  What was wrong with my timing?”

“Usually people like to be alone when they’re showering,” Sam said, fighting back a laugh, imagining the horror of Dean when Cas popped in to have a chat.

“He wasn’t inside the shower.  He was standing in the room with his eyes shut.  He appeared at peace.”

Alright, he couldn’t do it.  Sam let out a laugh while Cas continued to sit there stoically, no smile in sight.

“I’m afraid I can’t share with you the whole story, but I fear I might have done more wrong than the timing,” Cas continued through Sam’s waning laughter.

“No, it’s fine.  I don’t need to know,” Sam chuckled, “But maybe you should bring Dean his jeans so that he doesn’t freeze outside?”

“I’m not sure I’m the one—“ Cas started.

“You can patch up with him whatever you might’ve said wrong,” Sam said, apparently oblivious to the real happenings.  “Maybe convince him to come back in here, too.  All he did was yell at me.”

Because he was at a loss when it came to Dean, and because this entire situation rendered him strangely despondent, Cas went along with Sam’s suggestion and lifted himself up.  “I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

 

Music.  That’s what he needed.  Dean started the player, not really sure what part of the Led Zeppelin cassette had stopped on the last time he left it—

‘ _You've been learnin', baby, I been learnin'_

_All them good times, baby baby, I've been yearnin'_

_Way, way down inside, honey, you need ah_

_I'm gonna give you my love, ah_

_I'm gonna give you my love, ah, oh_ _’_

“You gotta to be fucking kidding me!” Dean cried, brusquely shutting it off. “Whole Lotta Love? Really? Baby, you’re killing me.  You’re supposed to be comforting me—“

And in that moment there was no avoiding the jolt of shock that was Cas suddenly appearing in the passenger’s seat.  Dean practically threw himself out the driver’s window, but tried to play it off cool no matter how stupid it looked without having something like his jacket to casually brush down. 

“Planning on following me everywhere, Cas?” he gruffly expressed, letting his limbs settle again.

“No.  I have your pants.”

Dean watched as Cas lifted his arms toward Dean, a pair of his jeans folded up in his hands.  “Sam said you would need these for the cold.”

“I told him I didn’t need these,” Dean grumbled despite taking them anyway, since the last thing he needed was Cas holding onto something he wore.

“That all?” Dean asked, unable to look at Cas for more than one second. The angel was sitting there in silence, staring out the front windshield as if they did this all the time and it was all completely normal.

“Sam wanted me to convince you to come back into the motel room.”

Cas was staring at him now, as if waiting.

Dean noticed for a moment before he took to staring at the dashboard.  “I thought I’d sleep out here tonight.”

“Am I the reason?” Cas questioned gravely.

 _Cas, the master of awkward_ , Dean thought, wishing that they could switch places only so that he could disappear into a ball of nothing.  He avoided moments like these like the plague – feelings, no, those discussions were for Sam.

“Maybe,” he forced out.

“I apologize,” Cas said, sounding genuinely unhappy, and it was Cas’ tone that had Dean rethinking his reaction.

“Hey, Cas… you didn’t do anything.  Don’t worry about it.” Dean was looking at him now, working past the one second, trying his best to not glance down at those lips he’d just tasted.  Yet into Cas’ eyes was even worse, and so was every-damn-where else.  _Everything_ about Cas was screaming at him to make it better, to bring him in for a hug… to carry on where they’d left off.

“I don’t know how to partake in all of human custom, especially things of a sexual nature,” Cas went on.  “I didn’t _keep_ it human. I admit I did release my wings…”

“Hey, hey…” Dean tried to stop the guy.  He was on a major guilt trip, and that wasn’t exactly what Dean intended.  _He_ was the one who freaked the hell out, much like he’d been for the past week.  “I didn’t… I didn’t mind it, seriously.”

“May I ask why you stopped, then?” Cas asked.

His words hit Dean with a rush of warmth to all the places that had managed to cool down with a slough of prodding.  Well, there was a wasted effort.  And so was trying to keep himself from getting lost within Cas’ whole self, sitting there with a face so curious—so lost when it came to all of this. When it came to him.

“I was stupid,” Dean confessed.  He knew he could’ve made it a whole lot easier by not bolting out of the bathroom on realization that ‘ _danger danger, this was Cas, this was Cas_!’  Of course it fucking was.  It always had been.

“I don’t understa—“

Cas was cut off by a sudden yank to his tie and Dean’s lips against his once more.  Cas noticed immediately that he missed this – _was it normal to miss something he only just experienced?_ He missed the feel of Dean’s lips, the taste of them, the smell of him being so close.  He missed Dean _letting_ him close.

He closed his eyes this time, knowing now a little of how it worked.  He felt the pleasure again, like static electricity jumping through his veins, his grace.  Dean took his lips away every so often – not very far, for he could still feel the ghost of them – only to kiss again, the intensity growing.  Cas could feel Dean’s other hand behind his head, fingers curling into his hair.  He could taste him now, Dean’s tongue darting along one of his lips.  And he kept pressing harder into the kiss, hard enough that Cas was affected by the force of it.  Something leapt inside of him, into his throat, and unconsciously he whimpered.

Dean smiled against Cas’ mouth before pulling away, getting Cas’ stare in return.  “I don’t know why I did that,” Cas murmured seriously.

“Usually that’s a sign of liking it,” Dean responded, holding in the part that involved him liking the hell out of that sound coming out of Cas.  Deftly he turned to Cas’ neck – a sensation that had Cas tilting his head, giving Dean better access -- kissing along his scruff down to his collarbone.  He noticed Cas’ swallowing heavily, his breathing quickening.

“Nervous?” Dean asked.

“… Yes.”

“Me too.”

Except _what the hell?_ – that was a first. With chicks he would’ve definitely sucked it up if there was a chance in hell he held nerves, but Cas had a way of pulling the undisguised truth out of him.  “I mean, you know...”

“I don’t know, Dean.  Do I make you nervous?” Cas lifted a hand to the side of Dean’s face, this time lowering his own head, meaning to return the kisses along Dean’s neck.  He found himself taking a longer moment to nuzzle against Dean’s skin, his scent both calming and inducing faint fluttering within him.

“Cas, what’re you doing?”

Cas sighed, Dean feeling the huff of warm air against his neck.  “Wishing to experience every essence of your being.”

“What?” Dean yelped, the words yet again affecting him as if touch themselves.  Cas seemed to realize what he’d said and Dean could see him lowering his head. 

“I didn’t quite mean for that…”  Cas was genuinely surprised at his own words. Much like the whimper, he had no way of stopping it.  All of this was very peculiar. Very frightening. And all the same, very pleasing.  “Do you trust me?”

Dean, confused by the change of direction, “Yeah, I trust you.”

One of Cas’ hands splayed itself against his chest, Dean remembering now that it was only skin against skin.  For a second he thought he was going to be zapped somewhere – was gonna protest, too – but instead he felt himself being pushed backward.  Going with the flow he shifted a bit; his back was facing the driver’s door. 

He was still confused, brows narrowed as Cas’ hand kept pushing with a startling gentleness compared to what Dean knew Cas was capable of.  His trenchcoat-bound self leaning forward the more Dean leaned back.  Soon his head hit the bottom of the seat, and he realized he’d stretched his legs across the length of both seats and that Cas’ knees were resting outside either side of them. 

“Cas?”

“I’m here.”

Cas fell over him now, hand propped against the seat just beside Dean’s head.  Dean could only think of his older thoughts, how he had envisioned such a scenario with Cas hovering over him, so close and yet not enough.  His breath hitched as he stared up at Cas.  They were such a dark blue now, almost black with the shade of the night, the only light from the streetlight feet away from the Impala.

Then, “Do you... do you _know_?”

Cas’ head tilted as he looked down at Dean.

“My head… could you see what’s been in it?”

For a moment Cas looked guilty, his lips pressing together as he glanced to the side.  “I’m afraid I did venture there on occasion.  As a canine, you see… I just wanted to feel more than the racing, pointless thoughts that form gave me. So yes, I did see.”

“Well great, that’s not weird at all.”

“Do you feel safe?”

Dean swallowed again, wondering how each utterance from Cas could host such an impact, but then _duh_ – angel.  Or more likely it was exclusively Cas. 

“I feel better when you’re around, if that’s what you mean,” Dean mumbled a little too quietly, feeling himself shiver.  He shut his eyes, an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart before he had some kind of cardiac attack.

Then something far from a cure came.  Cas’ lips were against him.  Warm, light kisses started at his neck and moved leisurely across his torso.  Dean was shuddering again, unable to stop from biting one side of his lip.

The angel stopped at each of Dean’s nipples, wondering if there was something special about them in this kind of situation, then settled on kissing them too.

Dean was breathless. He was trying not to, but this was Cas, and this was all so surreal, and each feathered kiss made him want to whine, but he bit back.  The kisses moved further downward, and Dean squeezed his eyes shut tighter.  And when the kissing reached his hips, an arm reached up to grip the top of the seat.

“Is this pleasant?” Cas spoke against Dean’s skin, voice ghosting over his hips.

 _Oh god, why did Cas have to ask?  Why did he need to make him talk?  Of course it was pleasant._ Dean was afraid what would happen the moment he opened his mouth.

“Yes… it feels good…” he exhaled. 

“Should I…?” Cas queried, eyes shifting downward to the only spot covered.

Dean lifted his head, taking in the suddenness of the idea.  He could barely stand the thought, and no, not in a bad way, but _holy shit, this was_ _Cas_.  A moan suddenly left him, his head falling back to hit the seat.  “We can’t.”

“Why?” Cas was staring at Dean now, not hurt, but deliberating.

“I don’t know, man… I guess… well, this is all happening pretty damn fast, isn’t it?”

“I’m not familiar with the fast and slow of this.”

“Trust me, it’s fast.  At least for me and you, it is.”  Dean hated that he was stopping this already. He knew it was like denying the guy all over again, but unlike before, this was for a different reason.  Somehow, even getting to semi-second base felt too soon.  Hell, their first kiss had happened just a little earlier, and now he was flat-backed in the car with Cas’ mouth dangerously close to—well, this was Cas. This time he wanted everything to go.... well. 

Ah hell, now he was sounding like a girl.

“It’s new to me, Cas.” Dean used the hand that was on the seat to hoist himself into a sitting position, drawing his legs up from where they were resting between Cas.  “It’s definitely new to you.  I’d just like to… take it slow, you know?  You can savor things more.”

_Alert the media, boys and girls: Dean Winchester is taking it slow._

Cas was silent for a while, then nodded.  Dean noticed the angel’s eyes glance down to his own – well, to be fair, it wasn’t only him that was aroused.

“Oh, uh…” Dean stammered.

“I have noticed that it eventually goes away,” Cas commented.

“Yeah, yeah it can.” 

Without warning there was a rapping at the driver’s window just behind Dean.  “Guys?”

 _Shitshitshitshitshit_ was Dean’s inward dialogue as he scrambled back to what might be considered a normal position in the car, his legs beneath the wheel as if getting ready to drive.  “What?” he barked, looking out at Sam through the window.

Cas didn’t really help. He was still halfway crouched over, sitting on his knees, but slowly he did unravel into the typical sitting position.

Sam seemed to have watched Cas’ maneuvering because he didn’t say a word until the angel stopped. “Uh… just wondering what’s up.  You both have been out here for a while…”

“So what?” Dean replied in defense.

“Dude, you don’t have to get all worked up.  What’d I interrupt, a pants séance or something?”

“Dean and I—“ Cas began, but was rapidly cut off by Dean.

“We were just talking about stuff.  Case stuff.  Really, nothing big.”

“Uh..huh…” Sam retorted, tongue against teeth as Dean fought to decipher if that meant he believed them or not.  Probably not, but hell, fucking Sam and his timing. 

“Look, I’m coming inside.  Cas convinced me.”

And he had nothing to worry about either, because as soon as Sammy showed up, he wasn’t so _excited_ anymore.  Being scared shitless would do that.  He swung open the driver door, forcing Sam to jump out of the way. 

“Thanks for worrying about me, Dad,” Dean glowered.

They heard the other door of the car shut as well, and soon Cas was standing near them.  Panicking a little, Dean glanced down the length of Cas’ body, but seeing no more sign of what they might’ve been up to, he was hit with a wave of relief. He couldn’t stomach what would happen if Sam found out.  Sure, it felt a little messed up, but come on, it was a lot for even _him_ to process.

“You forgot these.”

Cas was holding out his jeans again, and with a flush he hoped to hell was hidden by the time of night, he snatched them out of Cas’ hands. 

Only not before Cas attempted holding his hand.

In front of Sam.

Who noticed this time and appeared very, very thrown.

Dean managed to jerk his hand away in what he figured was a natural reaction, to which Cas at first looked woeful, but what quickly turned to what looked like… bitter comprehension.

“Did you just…?” Sam began.

“Yes, but I was mistaken. I was distracted thinking of something else… of home,” Cas answered, making almost no sense, but that didn’t matter because he disappeared in an invisible rush of wings.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“Beats me,” Dean said in a hurry.  “I gotta get inside.  I’m freezing my feet off.”

 

* * *

 


	8. Peachy Level 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOILA. ANOTHER CHAPTER. It makes me all tingly inside to know you've all been appreciating this entirely new venture of mine. I want to thank you with the strangest of love.
> 
> [Admittedly I did not proofread this because I was too intent on posting it and too tired to do so; hope there aren't too many mistakes.]

* * *

Dean doesn’t know why he wakes up, but he does, and when he slowly opens his eyes to focus, fuzzily notices Cas’ darkened figure standing near the motel door.  Watching him.

The sight fought to drain his will to even try anymore, but he hangs on like there’s still hope that one night he may just awake without the heavy implication he was being watched by the angel the entire time that he slept.  “What are you doing, Cas?” he grumbled quietly, thinking of Sam in the next bed over. 

They hadn’t seen Cas since he disappeared in the parking lot and boy, had it been one hell of an effort to keep from feeling guilty about tearing his hand away, but seriously, why couldn’t the guy get it?

Him and Sam had sat around without him, talking of tomorrow and flipping through late-night channels better watched alone than with your kid brother around .  So, naturally, they turned it off and figured they wouldn’t be seeing Cas for a while and they may as well hit the sack.

“Watching over you,” Cas openly responded.

“Pretty sure we’ve been over the ‘watching me sleep’ thing,” Dean continued to grumble, turning his head to its other side on the pillow, nearly past the point of caring about all of the seriously creepy things Cas decided to continue doing despite his consistent personal space lessons.

“I don’t care, Dean,” Cas said, staggering Dean as he turned back to look at him, only to notice with a blink that Cas had come to stand right beside where Dean was lying.

Dean could suddenly see the determination in Cas’ face, the cold that was in his stare, and he could feel a really frickin’ terrible rock drop in his chest, making it hard to swallow or even open his mouth.  “I’m exhausted by your pleas for personal space,” Cas continued, his voice generously hushed.  “If you do not tell me the true reason you personally require this abstract notion, then I’ll simply keep closer than what makes _you_ comfortable.”

“Cas—do we—“

“Yes, Dean.  We must.”

Dean grimaced, suddenly overrun with a flurry of nerves that weren’t the great kind – no, these were like fucking bees swimming around in his stomach, an overwhelming recognition of all the things that were there that never came up, of all the emotions he kept sealed away – and for damn good reason, too!

“Cas, man, I don’t know what to tell you—“

“I’ve told you what to tell me. I can’t understand you, Dean, if you don’t _let_ me, and I am not one to be _used_.  I may not be versed in reading you, but I know you are a man full of contradiction.  You tell me to keep away constantly, and yet recently you close all space. In fact, it feels you crave closeness that is physically impossible for two beings.  Tell me about that, Dean.”

Dean could feel his cheeks burning, his heart racing, his mind accelerating far too quickly for having just been woken up, but still wringing in all that was being tossed at him.  This confrontation was honestly the last damn thing he expected from Cas.  And hell, did he feel guilty, but what was he supposed to do? He was apparently _into_ Cas and he had no clue how to stop it.

“Alright, alright…” Dean breathed, still feeling nervous.  So goddamn nervous he felt like sending a riled fist through the wall, but instead his fingers curled white-knuckled into the sheets under him.  “I’m… I’m afraid, that’s all.”

“Of me?” Cas’ expression seemed to soften, now revealing his more natural uncertainty.

“Yeah,” Dean answered shortly, feeling beyond weird now. What – who could blame him? He’d never delved into this kind of subject before, least of all with another man.  Least of all Cas, the opposite of master when it came to feelings.

“I’ve told you not to—“

“Yeah, well it happens anyway, alright?  Just like me telling you to give me space and you not doing it anyway.”

“I believe that is different, Dean..”

“It’s just a part of me, Cas… you know.. I don’t get close to people.  Whenever I do, everything gets messed up.  I lose the person, or I have to leave the person, that’s it.  There’s no time to get… involved.”  Dean averted his eyes, preferring the pillow beside him to Cas’ face right now.  He could barely handle all that was coming out  of his mouth.  It felt so damn personal… but Cas was apparently suffering over the way he’d been acting lately, and the last thing he wanted was to lose his best friend, just as he’d more or less said.

“But I’m always with you, Dean.”

“Well, uh..” That was a good point.  Dean felt weight sink into the bed and looked back around to see Cas had sat down beside him, so close Dean could sit up and—

“But do you understand what this _means_ , Cas?”

“Yes… I believe it means you have no reason to worry about me leaving you.  I’ve been there, here, and I’ve been all around you, ever since I pulled you from Hell.  You’re safe, Dean.”

Those words ate at Dean, rendering him unknowing of how to possibly react to hearing that. He swallowed heavily, closing his eyes.  He had never thought about these things so profoundly before; it was like finding out you had a goddamn guardian angel your entire life – which was what he technically had, he guessed, but to fall in love with that guardian? 

“You’re an angel,” Dean clumsily blurted from within his mess of thoughts.

“I am…” Cas repeated, confusion restored to his slightly tilted head. Cas thought silently for a moment, before his head lowered. “I… yes.  It is not… received well in Heaven, for an angel to fall in love with a human.  However, I have fallen for you once before, and though these emotions confuse me, I know now—“

“Wait, hold on— _love_?” Dean exclaimed, too shocked to remember keeping his voice down.  “You’re saying that you _love_ me?”

It was another rarely-to-be-seen moment where Cas appeared to become vastly embarrassed, a blush rising in his face as if all his grace had taken hold and run with all humanly reaction.  He quickly averted his head, staring upward. “I don’t know, it could be I’m having trouble reading--”

“No, seriously,” Dean pried, his racing heart now a violently thumping one, fueled by the-hell-knew-what, but feeling as if his entire body was going to flip its way around and tackle the angel beside him, to clutch Cas in his arms and never let him go.  Never let him disappear again.  “Angels should know the difference, shouldn’t they?  I mean, come on, Cupid,” Dean let out a forced, nearly breathless laugh to try and calm the absurdity of his urges.

Dean’s attempt at humor during this moment caused Cas to turn his eyes down to Dean’s position on the bed.  His eyes were a lot brighter now – gone of that stubborn chill from earlier, and that Dean noticed this immediately caused him to shudder.  “Cas… please don’t say you love me.”

Cas kept silent, looking at Dean as if _really_ looking – looking straight into his mind and maybe deeper… into his soul.  It made Dean shift uncomfortably, now being the worst time for the worst stretch of quiet he’s ever felt in the entirety of his life.  Thump _thump thump_ was all he could hear pounding in his ears.

“I know you’re afraid to be curious about me, and even more afraid of revealing your emotions toward me.  I’ve been able to grasp this.”

Dean opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak.

Then, with daring that reminded Dean of when Cas stepped purposely into his designated space bubble, Cas was leaning over him, one of his hands pressing down on the one Dean had hidden beneath the blankets of the bed.  His face loomed inches away, his eyes burning into Dean’s.

Every ounce of Dean’s being froze, even his breathing.  Had time stopped?

“ _I love you_ , Dean Winchester.”

 

* * *

 

He awoke with a start, doused in sweat, breathing heavily.  It took him several seconds to process the bright, sun-filled and intensely _empty_ room. 

“You okay, Dean?” Sam came into the room, toothbrush hanging from one corner of his mouth. 

Dean turned to stare at his brother, disoriented and a few leaps beyond confused as all holy fuck. 

“…Dean?  You look a little faint..”

“Sammy… what the hell time is it?” Dean finally uttered.

“Uh, around nine thirty, why?”

“Nothin’, I’m fine.”

Dean slid his legs out of bed with one hand pushing anxiously through his hair.  Even that was drenched with sweat, so he had to take a moment to exhale a few long, steady streams of air.

“Yeah, sure looks it,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes, returning to the bathroom to spit into the sink.

“Was Cas here?” Dean called back to him.

“I think so.  Pretty sure I saw him wandering around outside.”

“Uh huh… and he was here all night?”

“Well I don’t know, Dean.  I was kind of in the middle of sleeping,” Sam said as he came back in.  “You want a coffee or something?”

“Nah… I’m good, thanks.” Anything but a coffee.  His heart was already battling to set some kind of record.  Seriously, had _any_ of that happened?  He felt like he woke up and now he was sitting in some kind of twilight zone time warp that had thrown him a few hours into the future.  Peachy.

“You still want to scout the neighborhood today, right?”

“…Oh, yeah.”

“Think Cas’ll come?” Sam asked.

His stomach did a jump at the name and Dean swallowed it down. “Yeah, I don’t see why not.  He’s been following us for this long.”

“Right..” Sam gave Dean a long look, until Dean was forced to acknowledge it.

“What?” he got up, just in case this turned into some feely moment.  Dean didn’t want to get himself trapped up in one… again.  If it had even _happened_.

“Were you talking last night?”

“When?  To your face while you tried to watch Tropical Mamas?”

Sam shot him a look. “No.  In the middle of the night, I swore I heard something like talking.”

"Huh,” Dean mused, sounding uninterested as he picked his clothes up off the floor and tugged on a pair of jeans.  He couldn’t muster a shower right now. No damn way. 

“It actually sounded like you and Cas were talking.”

Dean froze, but this time only for a split second.  Pulling a clean t-shirt over his head, he finally looked over to Sam. “Oh yeah, what’d you hear?”

“I don’t know…nothing really.  I was pretty tired,” Sam said with a shrug.  “Might have seemed like a fight, but if you don’t want to talk about if you guys talked...”

“Why wouldn’t I?  We don’t talk about anything,” Dean lied, shielding his boiling face by ruffling through his bag for a spare bottle of water.  _So it’d been real, huh?  Then why the hell had he felt like a dream the second he woke up?  How come he couldn’t remember a thing after—after—_

Air shifted in the room.  “Sam.  Dean.”

Dean turned to nod toward that familiar voice, which was now much more familiar with his nerve endings than anything else.  He felt hairs prickle at the back of his neck.  “Hey, Cas,” he tried his hand at a casual greeting. 

Cas fixed Dean with an expression Dean couldn’t and wouldn’t fathom right now.

It seemed to pass.

“Guess you’re ready to go?” Sam pitched in Dean’s direction.

“Let’s hit the road.”

 

* * *

 

To say the car ride was uncomfortable was a massive understatement.  Sam couldn’t help but feel as if there was something going on behind the scenes, something that he wasn’t in on.  Something that was physically filling the car with so much tension that he felt he could snap.

He knew Dean was hiding something back in the motel room, but he didn’t want to prod him.  He knew where that always got him, and Cas had interrupted the moment anyway, so…

“I feel like I’m in a giant plasma ball,” he announced in the midst of silence.  Dean had been concentrating on the road ahead, knowing they were almost to their destination, and Cas was simply sitting in the back as he always did, idly staring out the window at the passing scenery.

But when Sam spoke, Cas turned to look at him and Dean stole a glance at him.  “Music?”

But before Sam could respond, Dean turned on the cassette player, which to the horror of Dean’s memory began to blast the last song that had pervaded his ears.

‘ _You've been coolin', baby, I've been droolin',_

_All the good times I've been misusin',_

_Way, way down inside, I'm gonna give you my_ -’

“Oookay, I’m not feelin’ Zeppelin,” Dean remarked oh-so-smoothly, quickly shifting to the radio and turning the tunes down to the steady background beat of some Lynard Skynard.  His hands tightened on the wheel, ignoring the inquisitive look from the backseat and the speechless one beside him.

It took Sam a few moments.  “I’m not kidding, you’re acting _really_ weird, Dean.”

“You need some medication?  I don’t know what a plasma ball is, but--” Dean began to joke.

“You know what I me—“

“It’s a device composed of electricity that humans often use for amusement.  Humans put their hand on it, and the lines of electricity follow their touch,” Cas randomly interjected like the most-informed angel of minor scientific toys.

“Thanks, thanks Cas,” Dean couldn’t help but say.

“Yeah and I feel like I am _inside_ of one!  Do you get it?” Sam exclaimed, defeated by then, and just in time for Dean to stop the car near the general vicinity of jogging monster girl.

Dean looked hard at Sam, half of him wanting to blow all that was on his chest straight into the open – right here, no restraints, even with Cas behind him – but the other part, the main part, was scared as all hell to share what was bothering him.  Sam would think he’d gone off the fucking wheel… wouldn’t he?

Even if he didn’t, how did he tell his little brother he had feelings for a dude?  To make it ten times more awkward, the dude they’d been riding around with for a while now, the one he always picked fun at and who was generally seen as their best friend?  How did a big brother known as a charming frickin’ womanizer admit he was going batshit crazy over the nerdy angel in the backseat?  _How?_

God, Dean suddenly wanted to throw up; this whole thing made him so anxious and uneasy.  How the hell was this so hard compared to all the other times he’d expressed himself around Sam?  Even broken down in front of him?  All the goddamn monsters they encountered?  All the family losses they’ve endured?

For a moment he was going to do it.  He was going to say it.  Sam was looking at him with such a thoughtful amount of patience that Dean could die.

Finally… “I think this whole monster thing has been stressing me out.  If you think about it, man, I could’ve been brought into some really weird crap.”  And with that he was out of the car, leaving behind an exasperated Sam.

 

* * *

 

“You get anything?” Dean asked as Sam rejoined Dean and Cas on the other side of the sidewalk.  “Because I got nothin’.  The old donut man has never seen her and then spent ten minutes trying to invite me in to play chess.”

Sam quirked an eyebrow before responding, “The neighbor over there said that he’s seen someone matching her description walking her dog on occasion, and that she always came from that direction.” Sam pointed.

“The woman tending her garden said the blonde girl lived in the lime green home at the end of the block,” Cas put in. “She spoke of the creature being a very nice girl that made her many cookies.”

Used to it by now, Dean just smiled small at Cas.  “Great, good detective work.  Finally learning from the masters?”

“The older humans seem to enjoy my presence,” Cas lightly observed.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

“Well we may as well go check out that house.”

 

* * *

Once the three of them had climbed the steps, they decided they may as well knock.  There was no way of knowing if this was the monster’s house or not, so didn’t want to go breaking in some stranger’s home when they might be enjoying lunch or some afternoon show because of their normal life and all.

Dean stepped up and was first to knock.

Two seconds.

Seven seconds.

Ten seconds.

Another knock.

More seconds.

Nothing.

“Well, I’m gonna say that nobody’s home,” Dean concluded.  “Keep watch.”

Dean kneeled down, slipping a pick from the inside of his jacket to begin working at the front door.  But a second before he stuck it in, the door swung and bumped into him.  “What th—“

“Easier,” Cas said shortly as Dean stood up to see the angel had opened the door with a mere flick of his finger.  Ruffling his usefulness a bit, Dean muttered a thanks before following Sam and Cas inside.  He shut the door quietly behind them.

“Looks normal so far,” Sam remarked, hair sweeping around as he carefully peered around corners and into new rooms.  Dean agreed, seeing only a bunch of normal-people stuff in a very well kept home.  Nothing interesting in the slightest.  They had out their equipment, EMF included, but they weren’t catching a damn thing. 

Cas seemed interested in the backyard, since he was standing in front of the sliding glass door that led to it with a concentrated expression.  “There are dogs out there,” he said flatly.

“Well she did say she had some,” Dean added on his way over, stopping a good two feet away from Cas.  Luckily for his nerves, he was momentarily distracted by the minimalist description of _dogs_.

There were at least a dozen back there, most of them beneath a wooden shed of sorts, just without the doors and complete with a barred fence to keep them in.  And Dean was partially grateful, since there were a lot of huge dogs out there, some that he was sure would’ve been great at guarding the hell out of this house.

Which begged the question…

“Why are they all out there?  They’re practically hidden from sight, like she doesn’t want— oh.”

“Those aren’t truly dogs, Dean,” Cas said whilst looking at him.  “They think they are.  Most have lost sight of their humanity, but they’re all…”

“Human?” Sam finished, stunned by the fact. 

“Guess this is the place,” Dean quipped.  “Let’s go see if there’s any other action going on around here.”

“Shouldn’t we help them or something?  That’s crazy… who would do this to people?  _Why_?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe she eats ‘em.” Dean dragged his hand over a wall, seeing if there were any signs of a secret passageway like all the frickin’ creepy creatures seemed to have under these civil guises.

“I don’t think so, Dean… from what you say, it was you, not me and Cas…”

“I sense something,” Cas said as he strode across the room and into the kitchen.  “In an underground room.”

Sam and Dean followed him, noting a padlocked door in the kitchen.  Dean would’ve done it himself, but since the last lock he instead motioned to Cas.  “All yours, buddy.”

Cas appeared slightly annoyed at that, but a finger wave later and the lock clicked open.  They all traveled cautiously down the creaking wooden stairs into what was soon a stench of unspeakable proportions.

“Oh my god,” Sam said through a plugged nose.  “What _is_ that?”

“I think we stepped into the workings of Hannibal, man,” Dean jested, trying hard not to breathe through his nose, despite it feeling like the rankness could be felt on their skin. 

He had been the first to descend the staircase into the basement, and while it was ordinary and supposedly sanitary in the beginning, there was a back room shielded by a long, dark sheet that kept another one from sight.  As soon as Dean pushed it aside to peer in, he was hit with a wave of vomit-inducing-stench accompanied by the sight of gruesome, bloody chunks of various shapes and sizes, reinforced with bones and body parts and – _oh god_.

“I might be sick,” Dean choked, backing up slightly, hand in front of him as if it’d help deter the _very bloody and very dead butcherfest._

A concerned Cas, whose face was screwed up in obvious distaste over the slaughter of a display, drifted close to Dean, a hand lifting to Dean’s back as the man keeled over a harmless-looking table.

Dean hardly noticed, but then he was trying to gather his senses so he could suck in a long enough breath to go back in there and get a better damn look to see if they could find anything.

It wasn’t until Sam noticed that Dean finally fully noticed, and by then Cas’ hand had decided to slide its way back and forth – an attempt at comfort -- between Dean’s neck to the end of his back.

Dean had gotten a face-full of Sam’s ‘what the hell is going on, should I ask’ eyebrow face, and that was what alerted Dean to Cas’ touch, to which he this time slowly wiggled his way out of.  “Uh… thanks,” was all Dean could think to say beneath the scrutiny of Sam. 

Sam gave up and went back to rifling through the shelves of smaller mangled and broken parts, using a scarf he’d burn and never wear again as a sanitation glove. 

“Think that’s enough?” Dean murmured beneath his breath, leaning toward Cas so he’d hear without the eavesdropping of anyone else.

“Still frightened?” Cas countered just as quietly, a startling amount of challenge in his tone.  Dean felt the urge to full-on shiver, but his muscled tensed instead, his fists clenching and unclenching.  It was lucky as all hell that Cas chose to walk away a second beforehand. 

Dean was having a difficult time adjusting to the idea, but it was almost as if Cas was _taunting_ him.  Whenever Dean showed a sign of pulling or shying away, Cas took on that overwhelmingly, well, almost _audacious_ aura, slipping so damn directly into his space like it thrilled him to get beneath Dean’s skin for once, like he finally tired of puzzling over Dean from afar.

_Dammit, get back in the game, Dean!_

“Find anything in there?” Dean called out to Sam, knowing he couldn’t stomach another step into that room.  Not to say he got queasy over a little blood and guts – _pff, what was new_?  But between the nasty smell and Cas’ alleged antics, he felt suspiciously lightheaded.

“I’ve never heard of something like this…” Sam called out, returning from behind the curtain, his voice temporarily at the nasal octave while protecting his nose.  “With all of these… guts, I honestly think it’s all… human.  And the dogs outside, I am at a complete loss.  Maybe we should update Bobby?”

“Good idea,” Dean settled.

“I’ve just recalled,” Cas began as he came out behind Sam, still the most composed of the three of them.

“Oh come on, didn’t you say your sense of smell was heightened by a ton?” Dean called him out, finding it all pretty unfair.  But mostly gross.

“What?” Sam queried.  “When?”

Cas’ head did that frickin’ head tilt, and Dean swore he could see a smile barely forming on that stupid angel’s face.  It was gone just as Dean thought he sighted it, and Cas was his deadpan self. “When did I say that, Dean?”

And suddenly Dean remembered the occasion with such amazing clarity that he was rendered speechless for longer than he could process.  No way he’d bring up anything to do with Cas noticing his own smell more now – that he found it pleasant and --

“Dean?” Sam asked, waving a concerned hand in front of his face.

“I don’t know, I thought I remembered you saying something like that,” Dean waved off, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.  “Let’s get out of this room before we all suffocate.”

“I was going to say that I recall a creature much like this being mentioned in stories spoken of when I spent most of my time in Heaven.  I wasn’t involved in the area of hunting… back then,” Cas spoke as they ascended the basement steps.  “They may be creatures of a list angels call the _unreachables_.  They were hunted centuries ago, but over time the angels became unable to find them.  They assumed these creatures learnt of a way to stop angels from tracking them, as well as demons and hunters of the time.  They were close to the threat of extinction.”

“I’m surprised even Bobby doesn’t have a record of these.  He has books that go way, way back,” Sam noted.

“Well, how many centuries that have gone by are hazy for me.  Perhaps none of the human hunters made it out of their encounter alive.”

“Well that’s comforting,” Dean said.  “Also explains why Gabriel seemed to give off that he knew something about it.” _What a useless help he was; they could of heard this days ago._

“If I remember right, they were called Egedenti.”

“Do you know what it means?  Sounds Latin.” Sam asked.

“It’s broken somewhat.  My best translation would be needy eater.”

“So we’re basically after a people-eating dog-lover,” Dean said dryly.  They were walking back to the car now, careful to re-do the locks and glance around for ‘witnesses’ on their way out of the house.  Nothing much else they could do when the damn thing wasn’t even there.  They’d have to get the car and make a night of it.

“Maybe the dogs are there for backup.  You know, if they’re people and the monster can’t get the target it wants, like Dean…”

Dean flashed Sam a grin when he glanced back at him.  “When have you ever known your big brother to fall prey?”

The pun was lost on the both of them, neither of them looking as if they paid attention to one word his joke consisted of.  _Ah well, fresh air._   That was all that mattered right now.

“Or it keeps the animals because it truly does like them.”

“What, like the creature is lonely?  Member of an endangered species and all?”

“Yes, that was my thinking,” Cas meditated. “When one has no one left to belong to, I’m sure even evil craves company.”

“Insightful for one who—“ Dean started, but then stopped, letting Cas’ words sink in all the way.  It had been unfair to say in the first place, given Cas had been showing a strange range of emotion lately.  And what Cas had said – was he at all relating from his own feelings, or was Dean just thinking too hard now?

“What were you going to say, Dean?” Sam asked.

Both him and Cas looked at him.

“One who… uh, you know, slays evil without a lot of questions.”

 _Goddamn feelings._   No wonder it was easier to lock them up behind bars.

 

* * *

So their plan had been a stakeout, but according to the monster’s direct next-door neighbors, she had told them she was going to be gone for a week or so.  Family troubles. The neighbors understood, and had promised to take care of her dogs for her.  That was so sweet.

“I guess this means we can take this back to the room, call Bobby to see what else we can learn, then try again tomorrow?”

Dean didn’t want to admit it out loud, but this long stop in a single town had made the building exhaustion from their usual stop-to-stop travels sink in each day that went by, and each day that went by, the more and more he preferred to settle down early.  That way he could fling himself onto the nearest bed and sleep for a week.  That’s all he wanted.

Luckily Sam agreed, especially after asking where her family might be located yielded no results.  Cas seemed impartial no matter what occurred, but what he did do with some amount of interest was continue to follow Dean.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t really want to say this again, but I’d really like you not watching me while I sleep,” Dean whispered, putting as much polite into his request as possible this time.  Because _come on_ , who _ever_ would want someone doing that?  The thought of it would make it impossible for him to go to sleep to begin with.

“I don’t see the issue in me wishing to keep you safe.”

“You putting it that way, well, you shouldn’t be sparing so much damn attention on me.  I do fine protecting myself.” Dean shifted about nervously.  It was dark in the motel room, Sam was already asleep, and Dean was standing by his bed in pajama pants and t-shirt, arguing with an angel again.

“I could easily kill you as you sleep, Dean, and I know there are other beings and forces similar to myself that could do the same.”

“Ok, sure, but what are the chances?”

Cas’ only response was to stare at him, unreadable and yet Dean could tell there was some stubbornness behind that façade.  And where did he learn this?  _Great, Dean, great._

“Fine, I give up,” Dean gruffly gave in.  “No funny ideas,” Dean added, gradually coming to terms with the fact that these things were genuinely possible now.

“Am I that funny, Dean?”

“No, no you’re not,” Dean said as he slid beneath his covers, knowing he was partially lying because despite Cas not intending to be, there were many times Dean found himself amused by him.  “But that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin’,” Dean felt it better for the both of them that he didn’t get into that kind of conversation, “I’m gonna get some sleep now.”

He only just shut his eyes when—“Dean.”

“Yeah, Cas?” he tried not to sound too worn-out.

“Could I… join you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’d like you lay with you, in the bed.”

 _Well if that was all,_ Dean shouted internally.  Dean felt a heat surge through him at the mere suggestion, and Cas stood there looking as calm as ever when Dean rolled around to look up at him.

“I thought you didn’t sleep.”

“I don’t.”

“Sammy’s in here.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I might,” Dean shot back.

“I think you’re using excuses, Dean.  I think you’re still af—“

“I’m not frickin’ afraid, okay?!” he defended mindlessly, most of him wishing they’d stop whisper-bantering in the dark and the rest of him enduring an in-body experience of stupid fireworks and butterflies.  “Just… just get over here, then.”

Dean rolled over, facing away from Cas and scooting his body further to the other side to give him the space.  Faintly he thought he heard Cas undressing some, and when he twisted his head around, it was exactly what Cas was doing.

“Why are you doing that?” Dean accused.

“It’s what you do before getting into a bed, is it not?”

Cas had pulled off his shoes, his socks, his belt, and when down to the tie, where he always came to a troubled point, he struggled in figuring out how to undo it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean mumbled, dragging his now very wobbly-self over to Cas.  He sat up enough so he could use both hands to undo the tie for him, doing it with the ease of someone practiced in the art of pretending to be an officer of all kinds.

Dean found Cas’ staring unhelpful, but he tried his hardest to not break the gaze too many times.  He was tired of Cas calling him out on being afraid.  How he ever decided on starting that, Dean would curse the occasion forever.

“There, I hope you paid attention to more than just my face,” Dean finished, watching as Cas stood straight to shrug the trenchcoat off of his shoulders.  The suit jacket beneath went as well, and the moment Dean discovered he’d been staring, he instantly moved back to where he’d been. 

That seemed to be all in the way of Cas de-clothing, thankfully, because Dean felt him dip into the bed the moment after Dean moved.

Dean tried his best to relax – hell did he try – but as soon as he felt _Cas lifting the goddamn blankets_ , his entire body went rigid.

_Okay, he could deal with this.  No problem.  Cas wanted the covers for no reason whatsoever?  Great._

But then, as Dean was distracted by the unsettling thrumming of his heart, he felt Cas snuggling up against his turned back, the angels front pressing snugly into him.  An arm snaked its way around his middle, and _holy fucking crap_ did it set every inch of his skin on fire, despite the two of them being fully clothed.  He could feel a tickling at the back of his neck and when he felt a warm puff of air hit his skin, knew Cas had buried his face there.

“C—Cas..” he stammered, his composure dead and gone by this point.  “You didn’t say cuddling was gonna be a part of this…”

“Tell me I’m invading your personal space,” Cas replied, his words a ghostly warmth against his neck. 

Dean involuntarily shuddered, so starkly aware of how intimate this was, how rare it was he’d ever get this cozy with _anyone,_ how Cas’ voice seemed to melt into the very core of him.  Without thinking, he twisted so he could turn his head around for some snarky comeback.  What he ended up doing was bumping noses with the guy, his awareness zoning in on how Cas was now staring at him, and Dean right back.  Uneasily his gaze flickered down to Cas’ lips – so damn close, so damn tempting, and he swore Cas was squeezing him closer.

_Fuck everything.  It wasn’t worth it._

Dean closed the distance without sparing another hammering of his heartbeat.  Though Cas was the one to start all of this, he appeared taken by surprise, his eyes widening and his body tensing as Dean’s lips pressed hard into his own. 

He couldn’t stop.

Twisting all the way around, Dean slanted himself against Cas, one hand pushing against one of the angel’s shoulders so that he’d lay flat-backed against the bed. His lips parted and Cas followed suit, the kiss deepening while Dean maneuvered himself above Cas, his legs straddling the angel’s waist.

Cas lifted himself upward into the kiss, an elbow resting against the bed as his free hand took to grasping the back of Dean’s neck, fingers playing at the soft strands of his hair.  Cas could feel a steady thrumming within him, the taste, the smell, the touch of Dean invading his senses.  It felt as though there was no way he could get as near as he craved, and the reality of it caused a reflexive, soft moan to escape him.  He could feel a shiver ripple through Dean.

Hearing such a vulnerable sound from Cas, Dean felt on the verge of a frenzy.  He was painfully aware of how goddamn aroused he was and _shit they’d barely even started_. 

The kiss broke and Dean leaned forward, Cas’ tipping back with him until his head touched the pillow beneath him.  They were both breathless and all of a sudden Dean was aware of Cas’ subtly rolling his hips upward – between his parted legs.

“Cas… you need to.. to..” Dean gasped, not even knowing where he was going.

That intimidating dark shade of blue stared up at him, questioning.  But Cas kept at it, as if he knew he was getting a pleasured rise out of Dean.  His hands slipped downward to grasp Dean’s sides, venturing courageously enough beneath Dean’s t-shirt.  Dean could feel Cas’ thumbs tracing soft circles against his skin and that combined with the torture of Cas’ smooth movements causing friction between them, it was a fucking wonder he didn’t lose it here and now.

“Fuck,” he murmured, the word almost a groan.  Unable to just sit there, Dean grasped both sides of Cas’ face, bringing them into a hard kiss as he lost all remaining restraint and began to grind his own hips into Cas’, working up to a rhythm that had his blood raging.

In any other situation this would be one hell of an embarrassing experience.  He felt so close to finishing it was fucking ridiculous.  Waves of pleasure shook through him, suffering how goddamn hard Cas was and having them both grinding into each other – _fuckfuckfuck_.

Cas was beginning to lose it even more than Dean.  Low moaning sounded behind their kiss, Cas’ hands tightening their grip.  “Dean, I…” Cas gasped against Dean’s lips, a loud whimper interrupting any continuance of his plea when Dean took the moment to quicken the thrusting of his hips.

As quickly as he could Dean slid a hand from Cas’ cheek to cover his mouth.  Cas’ eyes widened slightly, but it was more out fear toward the overwhelmingly foreign and yet unbearably pleasurable sensation pulsing through him than the fact that Dean was trying to keep things impossibly quiet.  This pleasure… the magnitude of it was beyond his experiences.

Dean had to grit his teeth to keep moans of his own from filling the motel room.  Cas’ face didn’t make it any easier, because holy _hell_ , between how fucking blown away into an unknown oblivion the angel looked… and how helpless his runaway sounds were – Dean was completely and utterly done.

He felt closer and closer and then without warning Cas’ released a sound between a moan and a choked whine – Dean’s hand not muffling a damn thing.  Cas’ middle lifted from the bed, pressing hard into Dean with a strength that he tried hard to suppress.  The pleasure was immeasurable, the sensation beyond his comprehension, but he was hot all over, a pulsing deep within his belly.

This sent Dean over the edge in an instant, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt and yet not being able to keep from groaning, his head burying itself in Cas’ neck as he came harder than he felt he ever had.  He could feel the hot sweat against the angel’s neck, could feel his own hot, heavy breathing, and for a second he felt a fiery hot burning on his sides, realizing Cas’ hands were still gripping him tightly.

“Cas… ow…hey…” he breathed, his hands moving to slip over both of Cas’ own, leading his hold off of him.

“Dean, I—I’m sorry…” Cas responded breathlessly, speaking right into Dean’s ear, his head slightly turned in a failed resistance to nuzzle into Dean.

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Dean roughly replied, suddenly realizing how wrong it was that Cas felt the need to apologize as much as he did.  In fact, “I’m the only one who should be saying it.”

Dean swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous as all hell.  But he knew he had to.  “Sorry for pushing you away, Cas.”

Moments of silence passed between them.

“You both should say sorry to me for scarring me for life,” they both suddenly heard, Sam’s tone undoubtedly traumatized even through the stacks of pillows held tightly around his head.

 

* * *

 


	9. Peachy Level 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you readers are great, that's all I've got to say this time.

* * *

 

“I’m speechless, you guys.”

“In a manner of speaking, you are utilizing speech right now.”

Cas’ usual delivery of the obvious breezed cleanly on by as Sam sat there motionless, mouth parted as if a reel of horror was playing right before him.

“Okay, seriously… now you’re being dramatic,” Dean said as he shot his brother a ticked off look.

“My brain…” Sam lamented, “How do you come back?”

This time he got a stone-cold glare straight from the enough-is-enough Dean machine, but since he wasn’t looking at Dean, well, it wasn’t doing any good.

_Seriously: drama queen.  Come on._

“You think you could’ve _warned_ me, Dean!  Told me from the start.  I could have _changed rooms_.”

“What?  Why?” Dean shot back in defense, the swarms of bees still circling inside of him like they had been the moment he looked over in the dark and saw Sam curled up in dread, a headless body made so by his mountain of pillows.  “It was only a little... light…” Dean stumbled over the words, feeling the hot flush in his face, “You know what I mean... kissing.”

“Well, it was more than that,” Cas leaned forward to butt in.

“Yeah, right!” Sam exclaimed.  “A little kissing with a lot of – of - _sex_ noises!” Which caused Sam to immediately groan, his head falling back with both his hands gripping his face.  He remembered his talk with Cas, how even _talking_ about him and Dean was a slightly traumatizing task for a brother, so _hearing_ Cas and his brother doing…doing… _oh god, undoubtedly a million times worse_.

_An infinity times worse._

Sure, he was happy for them and all – who was he to judge? Their weirdness around each other made them perfect for eachother anyway. But he had been sleeping pretty damn nicely beforehand, before he heard suspicious noises that literally _woke him up_.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Cas tried comfort, sounding apologetic for at least a second. “It was probably me. I found myself unable to control my volume.”

Dean about smashed his head into the steering wheel out of sheer mortification. 

The last thing he wanted was for Sam to find out this way – he should have just come clean the day before like he’d wanted.  Now he had to brave through the period of a severely wounded little brother.  But he could try and see where Sam was coming from – if it had been him walking in on Sam and Ca – _no way, fuck that scenario_ , make it Gabriel and Sam or something.  Well, he would’ve flipped his shit.  Burned out his eyes out or hiked it to a state over, never to see things right again.  That’s the kind of trauma, and Dean didn’t even know how to help.

Even when he’d noticed Sam noticing them, he hadn’t known how to ease his way out of the moment. His definition of smooth after all of that?

 _Flinging himself off of Cas_ , into the space that was left of the bed.  Then, hoping he was hidden behind the unnervingly unfazed angel, he stared up at the dark ceiling, pretending he wasn’t really there and hoping Sam told himself he’d been hallucinating the whole time. 

If only Cas were as practiced, despite that having been the crappiest job of hiding Dean had ever achieved in the history of his career. 

“I did not scar you, Sam. Although I think I may have accidentally scarred Dean.”

Cas, with his zero humor and smidge of concern, blessed the awkward air of that night with a heaping pile of _more_ awkward.

“So how about our case?!” Dean suddenly exclaimed a little too loudly, his mind returning to the present moment.

From the back seat, Cas could tell by Dean’s rigid demeanor that he was feeling relatively anxious – he’d gotten very used to recognizing this over the past few days.  Cas even found himself experiencing it.

So he tried to assist how he could.  “Bobby… he seemed to think that we should go back and search further for signs of the creature’s whereabouts, but I think we should use one of the humans it has under its spell.”

Dean seemed to visibly calm at the sound of Cas’ voice, specially since it had nothing to do with the volume of sounds he’d been making last night.

“How?”

“Well, as I described once, my senses were heightened as a canine.  I’m sure it was the same for Sam.  Perhaps one of them has been there long enough to recognize the creature’s scent.”

Slowly Sam lifted his head and revealed his face, gingerly entering himself into their new conversation.  “That’s a… great idea.”

“So we steal one out of that shed-prison and hope it catches her scent? How likely is it that she’s close to her own house?”

Sam shrugged, “What other options do we have?”

“Why didn’t we just think of this yesterday?”

“Too busy giving back massages in the torture chamber…” Sam mumbled, hardly audible as he turned to look the other way, trying his hardest at innocence.

“Excuse me?  You want to say that again?” Dean countered.

“What?  Me?” Sam glanced at Dean, adorned with those damn puppy eyes.  “I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes… you did.” Castiel said, furrowing his brow in confusion.  “Dean was ailing and it was a gesture of comfort.”

“Oh, uh-huh,” Sam said, trying to curb a smirk.  The Impala slid to a stop, the brakes hit a bit too brusquely. 

“Hey, c’mere Sammy,” Dean motioned, face turned into one of his strained ‘so you’re gonna be playing this game’ smiles.

“No,” Sam contested.

“No, really. Come here.”

But Sam had already gripped the door handle, hastening from the car just as Dean’s hand shot out to grab him, a second-too-late in seizing the collar of Sam’s jacket.  “Dammit,” Dean cursed beneath his breath.

He threw his own self out of the car.  “You can’t evade me forever!”

“Angel fetish!” Sam snarkily called out from across the street.

Moments later Sam let out a surprised _oomph_ , balance lost as he was tackled from behind, both Sam and Dean now tumbling from Sam’s great height onto the front lawn of the acquainted lime green home.

 

* * *

 

 

“This one,” Cas said, walking back over to the two disheveled Winchesters.  The small black Toto dog that Dean had once seen was held in both of the angel’s hands, sticking out for one of them to take.

“Hey, that’s Jessica,” Dean said with a pleased smirk.

Sam fired an unamused look in his direction, “Not cool.”

“What? That’s what the monster called it.” Dean replied with a shrug. 

“Take her,” Cas ordered.

“Hey, no way am I taking that thing.  Are you joking?” He took a step back and lifted his hand as a shield.

“I’ll take it, Cas,” Sam sighed, carefully taking it from him, the whole dog as good as fitting in the palm of his huge hand.  “So is this… a person?”

“Yes, one that’s been here from the beginning of the creature’s stay in this area.  The woman’s name really is Jessica.  She was the sister of one of the victims.”

“Awesome.  I’m guessing by victim, you mean meal?”

“Yes.  It was years ago.  She’s been kept as a pet ever since, and seems the most attuned to the creature’s scent.”

“How do you know?” Sam questioned.

“When I approached her, the… master, as the monster is seen, was the only thing racing through her mind.  She has long lost her human memories.”

“Woah, to think how many dogs in the world were once a run-of-the-mill Dick and Jane.”

“Well this thing is endangered, right?  There can’t be too many?” Sam asked, looking from Dean to Cas.

“As far as I know.  It’s been… a while, so if they’ve bred since then, I wouldn’t be the one informed.”

“Let’s hope not.  Let’s say we get it on a leash and find something for it to get a whiff of.”

Dean made the first move back into the empty house, finding his way to the bedroom.  A swift scan of the room and he spotted a sweater resting against a chair in the corner.  With slightly repelled hesitation - his head taking him back to the room of rare body parts - he picked it up by two fingers and went back out to where Sam was gently clasping a leash around the dog’s neck.

“There is little that can be done,” Cas spoke, “Even with the spell’s reversal, the woman will never recover. She would have a much happier life as a canine.”

“Sure, but wouldn’t that cut away more than half of her _human_ life?” Sam argued.

“Yes, but her mind has deteriorated into one of a canine.  She would function very poorly amongst humans now.  I don’t believe they would accept her as they once did.  She would…” Cas paused, seeming lost on the right words.

“Be sent to the loony bin?” Dean quipped in, dropping the sweater near Sam’s head.  Sam dodged and tossed Dean a dirty look.

“Yes, institutions of that nature,” Cas said with a nod, watching intently as Dean restlessly paced around the living room.

“Well what about the others?” Sam asked.

“Half of them are the same case.  A few may be able to be saved.”

“And you can’t fix any of their minds with that angel mojo of yours?” Dean tuned in, his turn to interrogate.

Cas sighed, a sound Dean decided he sorta… disliked coming from Cas.  So far it was tied to Cas feeling bad, and how the hell bad did an angel have to feel to get to the point of sighing?  “I would only be healing any mental trauma, but not the change in composition of their mutated brain.  That is why these creatures were hunted by angels to begin with.  They had a way of changing God’s creations… too much.  I would help more… if I were able.”

Dean returned Cas’ stare, “It’s okay, Cas.  We’ll try to help the ones we can.”

It wasn’t until Sam cleared his throat that Dean noticed time had passed.  “How about us getting to what we’re here for?”

“Huh… yeah.” Dean attempted a recovery, hand moving to nervously rub the back of his neck.  “What are you waiting for?” _No, he didn’t get carried away staring at Cas, trying to search out what the guy was thinking behind all of that blue. Why would he waste precious time on frickin’ stupid angel things like that?_

Entirely done with Dean, Sam exhaled noisily and led the way to the front door.                 

* * *

 

To all of their surprise, the little Dorothy sidekick had picked up on a scent not far from the house.  Clearly it was a strong one, because its tiny, yapping form was struggling to pull ahead.  Of course to no avail, since his yeti brother had a hold of it, but maybe this wasn’t going to take as long as Dean originally thought.

Sam simply let it run, keeping a hold of the leash as he ran along with it.  They made their way through an opening of hedges a mile or so down a steadily dwindling neighborhood street.  Dean and Cas followed suit, Dean calling out a “Run, Forest!” when Sam and the dog turned a sudden right into a clearing that led into what looked like a wide expanse of forest.

“Make sure this isn’t a squirrel chase!” Dean shouted as an afterthought.

For a few minutes it was quiet, aside from the furry, panting gremlin.

Dean and Sam kept at a steady, brisk jog, in view of the fact that their guide wasn’t a very skilled bounder.

“Running is very slow,” Cas commented from beside Dean, looking as if he wasn’t exerted in the slightest.  He may as well have been gliding casually by in a damn canoe. 

“Well excuse us for not having the power to zap across the world in an instant,” Dean huffed.

“I try to remain doing things your way to appear an equal.”

Dean was a little taken aback by that statement, not sure if Cas meant _him_ or _human_ by his ‘your,’ but either way feeling it had to be a significant gesture for a soldier of the Lord.  Dean swallowed, letting out a breathy chuckle.  “Don’t you miss abusing the system down here?”

Dean had slowed down, but made sure Sam wasn’t too far ahead of them – ten feet between them at the most – and weaved through trees that thickened by the second.

“I do it because I thought you liked me to,” Cas said, giving Dean one of those intense and impossibly ingenuous looks that made Dean crumble inside.  Dean could hear a snort from in front of him and pretended to ignore it.

_Fucking christ, it was happening so easily now.  Cas could blink in his direction and Dean’s shatterproof barriers would instantaneously thaw.  That’s what he got for finally letting the angel in, huh?_

“Everything for me, huh?” Dean smirked a little – _cool it, man._

Cas appeared to think for a moment, reflecting, “Yes, for you.”

“Not even a little for Sam?”

“You and Sam… are part of each other.  He means the most to you in this world.  I’ll care for Sam, too.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that.  It got a _lot_ more intense than he’d been planning, and given they were currently hurrying through the woods after a miniature dog while Cas made how much Dean meant to him that much more clear, everything seemed bizarrely unreal. 

The faint burning in his chest testified against him, reminding him that his body wasn’t made to run infinite distances.  Glancing around, he couldn’t even process how long they’d been running or in what direction – just that he always had his little brother’s back in his line of sight.  He ducked a twig, the trees much denser now.  “Hey Sam, is she tired yet?!” he called out.

“I don’t know, man, it’s like she knows some exact destination!”

Only a couple more minutes went by.  Just a few, tiny minutes.

That’s about the point both Sam and Toto went flying.

  

* * *

 

 

Dean was hit with painful shock as he watched Sam give a startled yell, the ground beneath his feet completely and utterly gone.  The two of them dropped like stones.

It was as if the breath was knocked out of him, like a greedy wind swooped by to steal it as its own.

“Sam!” Dean choked out, straining his muscles until he skidded to a stop at the edge of the sharp drop.  For one sickening second, Dean thought he was going to look down and see… _no no no, he fucking well wouldn’t._

When his eyes dropped - how hard he had to compel himself was agonizing - all he saw was… nothing.  Nothing but the disturbed dirt and stray rocks skipping their way down the slope as if chasing after the lost presence of his brother. 

Nothing but thick trees maybe a hundred feet below.

“Sam!” he tried again, but everything was eerily quiet.  Cas was gone.

Dean was losing it.  What the fuck did he _do_? _What the fuck did he do?_ Hands were raised at his head, fingers burying painfully into his hair as he paced dangerously close to the edge. 

 _Well fuck it, he was going to do it._   He could see there wasn’t a safe way down in either direction and if it wasn’t close enough to see, then he wouldn’t waste that extra time. 

He inhaled a deep, shaky breath of air and tried to brace himself.

Then… he jumped.

 

* * *

 

 


	10. Peachy Level 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My delay: body has been haunted by a cold, out of town for several days, and attempting to participate in GISHWHES. But I couldn't resist working on this in the time that I could. All of you are quite strong motivators for keeping up this story I never thought would stretch to the length its at now. It is all mysteriously awesome. Have another chapter!

* * *

 

Suddenly there was an intensity bound around him so tightly it was like he was being force-hugged by Darth Vadar, the strength of it causing the side of his face and the rest of him to crush into a mass of fabric.  “What the—“ he breathed out, unable to conceal his shock.  His eyes had been shut, but _hell_ , now they were wide-open and staring at the… frickin’ _clouds_ above the top of… the trees?

Small gusts of wind swept around him on both sides, a lot like the wind that had stolen his breath away as he’d watched Sam fall.  He felt himself slip down a fraction, the grip around him tightening even more. 

The lack of solid ground beneath his feet sunk in with delayed bewilderment and it was in that second his arms instinctively gripped the one solid thing keeping him from smashing into dirt and rock and hell knew what else.  He blinked, disoriented, taking in the recurringbeige coat he was tightly gripping onto.

“Cas?” he exclaimed, realizing how stupid he sounded with his face smashed against the frame of an angel.

It was a fast plunge; he could already see the trunks of the trees rushing toward them. For a second he really thought he’d end up a meat-pile on the ground, but a moment after the thought, Dean felt the tips of his boots graze gently over what he figured was the ground.  _The sweet, sweet ground._  

Entirely staggered, he let go instantly, but when he tried to push away, the grip remained firmly around him.

Which now felt r _eally_ weird, considering he was bent over slightly, his feet having been hanging below Cas’ own as they made full contact with the ground.  Not to mention he still had his frickin’ _face_ pressing into the guy’s chest.  “Uh… Cas?”

“At what point did you think your death would help you find Sam?” came that rough voice.  Dean swore he could feel the force of it rumbling through him.

It took Dean a second to process, his mind momentarily taken by the scent of Cas so close – the smell of spilt rain and soil, cedar and ocean air, worn leather and hot cinnamon.  Dean closed his eyes and breathed in before he knew what he was doing.  _To smell like this was impossible, wasn’t it?  But it smelt so damn good._   On exhale he felt as if he could crumple weakly to his knees. 

“Uh… you guys okay?”

“Sam!” Dean called, starkly aware again.  And maybe it was a good thing he was Velcro-ed to Cas, because he could feel a fierce blush rounding itself up.

“Hey Casanova, do you plan to keep me like this all day?” Dean asked, attempting to pull away when he felt Cas’ hold around him loosen. 

As casually as possible, Dean straightened himself and turned to see Sam sitting with his back against the base of a tree, the dog still alive and panting within his lap.  Reminded of the chasm of pain he’d felt over the prospect of losing him, Dean swallowed back to the urge to throw himself forward, instead keeping it at a hugely relieved grin.  _Still a breathing, functioning Sam… thank the fucking heavens quite literally._

“I thought you were—“ Dean started.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam finished for him.  “But Cas caught me.”

Dean found himself swallowing anxiously, glancing back at Cas, who to Dean’s surprise was staring pointedly at him.  Angrily.  “Right.  You could handle catching all five-hundred pounds of Sam?” he joked, feeling a generous amount of discomfort from the way Cas was looking at him.

“No wa—“ Sam fought, about to defend himself.

“I’m kidding, man.  I know you’re self-conscious.” 

Dean didn’t know how else to relieve the amount of tension that was swiftly conquering his insides as he felt Cas’ eyes bore into him. 

“Thanks, Cas… you have no idea,” Dean finally said, knowing words weren’t nearly enough to make up for the massive lift that came with seeing Sammy in one piece.  Sure, _he_ was glad to be alive and kicking, but he couldn’t imagine anything worse than if he’d been the only one to come out of this okay.

“ _You_ have no idea,” Cas countered, his tone eerily somber.

It made Dean’s stomach flip uneasily.  He stole a glance at Sam, who gave Dean an equally ‘you really _don’t_ have an idea’ look.

“What?” Dean dubiously asked, guessing that he’d gotten lost somewhere between the moment he’d jumped and the second he returned to Earth.

Cas let out a heavy huff, chin lifting crossly as he stepped off into the trees.

Dean looked back at Sam with raised eyebrows, mouth open in silence.

“Cas barely got me and Jessica down…” Sam murmured.  “We practically crashed into the trees when he got me… and while he made sure I was okay, he, uh, suddenly got this look of complete panic.  Disappeared instantaneously.”

 _Oh_ , was all Dean could muster, at a loss of what to say.  _Cas had been handling it all along... but hey!  How could he have known?!  They’d both disappeared off the map – what else could he do?!   And what, Cas was annoyed he had to help them both?  Well he was grateful and all, but that seemed a_ tad _unfair._

“Alright, you know what?” Dean said, glimpsing back to see Cas a few yards away, staring up into the sky beyond the treetops.  He began to stride off toward the angel.

“Wait – shouldn’t we keep going?” Sam questioned hurriedly.

“Yeah, one sec,” Dean assured, leaving Sam to sigh and _plonk_ his head back against the tree. 

“Unofficially married,” Sam remarked as he scratched Jessica behind the ears.

 

* * *

 

 

“So what stick is up your ass?”

Cas’ head slowly lowered at the sound of Dean’s voice, dark blue eyes staring hard at the hunter. 

“You jumped,” Cas spoke.

“Well you and Sam were gone.  What else could I do?”

“Waited.”

“I’m no mind reader, you know.”

Cas’ glower softened, his demeanor seeming to shift from irritation to pain as he glimpsed to the side, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

“I don’t think you understand.  I barely got to you, Dean.”

Dean could feel something inside of him writhe about uneasily.  “Hey—“

“ _No_ , Dean,” Cas interrupted, “You were _feet_ away from the incline.  Your legs would’ve snapped beneath you, nature itself shattering nearly every bone in your body until you lay extinguished at the lowest point.  And I would be responsible.”

 _Well okay, intense._   It took all of Dean not to imagine going out like that, mangled and broken at the bottom of some cliff instead of ganked by a wrathful monster or something far more heroic than that – Satan himself.  _There, that was better._

Seriously though?  It was twisting him up inside to hear this coming from Cas, especially when he looked like he’d just committed one of the worst atrocities.

“Cas, you are being _way_ too hard on yourself.  Did you push me off that cliff?  No, you didn’t.  And I’m fine, see?  You caught me.”  Dean lifted his arms, showing off his fully-intact self, hoping Cas would at least look back at him.

It worked, but Cas had that woeful look really going for him.

Dean couldn’t help himself.  Heaving a sigh, he marched forward and took Cas into a one-armed hug, hooking the limb around the angel’s neck.  “Don’t worry about it, okay?  I’m not dead, and that’s thanks to you.  Sam, too.”

It was Cas’ turn to sigh.  “I’ll try, Dean, but many emotions are difficult to control, now that I seemed to have been given the opening.”

“Given the opening?” Dean asked.

“It seems ever since I was put under the effect of the animalizing spell, it brought me that much closer to humanity and its… sensations.  Jealousy…”

Dean raised an eyebrow at that, pulling back from the hug.  “Uh-huh… that’s your reason for biting the monster jogger?  How’d you know what it was?”

“Sam and I discussed it.”

“You and _Sam_?  Alright, I won’t even ask.”  But maybe he would – what was Sam doing educating Castiel about jealousy?  Was it _him_ they were talking about?

“Yes, jealousy and now fear.  There is a lot of fear involved.”

“Well, it’s what keeps our blood pumping,” Dean quipped.

“Not nece—“

“Just a saying, Cas,” Dean said with a slight smirk.  “Involved in what, by the way?”  Dean glanced back at Sam.  The guy was still playing with the dog, his own shaggy head lowered as if talking to it.  What a nerd.

“In love,” Cas earnestly replied, head tilted as if Dean was supposed to have known the answer.  But all Dean could do was swallow, feeling his voice go with it.  No, he was _not_ used to hearing this word, and every time Cas uttered it, the world shriveled upon itself, leaving only the two of them inside of it.

“Love?” Dean choked out.  _So what if he couldn’t process it?_ For days he had been wondering about that moment in the middle of the night – the night Cas had leaned in close and declared his love him.  Time had stopped.  He’d woken up.  “But this isn’t a dream,” Dean muttered softly, unaware it was out loud until it was spoken.

“No, Dean… it isn’t.  Would you prefer it to be?”

Dean swore he saw a delicate smile turn up one side of Cas’ lips, as if amused by _knowing_ Dean would fidget with the struggle of having to admit things he wasn’t comfortable admitting.

“…Not really,” Dean replied, cheeks hot, his hand coming to rest at the back of his neck.

“I also feel… lightened,” Cas continued, stepping forward.  _One more step._  “As soon as I had you gripped and assured myself you were safe.  Before the fear invaded every element of my… grace.” 

 _No more steps._ They were close enough now.  Dean could feel Cas’ warm breath, see those dark eyelashes, and even more the indecipherable blue beyond them _.  Is this why Cas spoke of each emotion?  Did he know how difficult it was to see inside of him?  Was he trying to let him in?_

“Cas, this can’t happen here…” he said, his response complete with a shudder.  It was all violent fluttering, begging him to stop giving a shit about the when and where.  And Cas didn’t make a move – he just stood there, staring into Dean, eyes narrowing slightly when Dean didn’t make any move to escape.

“Why not?” Cas queried, that faint illusion of a smirk returning to his lips. 

_Fuck that head tilt.  Made it that much damn easier._

He caught Cas’ lips with his, hands lifting to his face to bring and keep him close.  Dean kept his eyes open long enough to see Cas’ flutter closed – then his joined the game.  _Damn tease,_ Dean thought, wishing he could call Cas out on it, but at the same time holding back for the sake of not giving Cas the pleasure of knowing he had that effect on him. _If he didn’t damn well know already._

Dean’s hands slipped down to grip Cas’ shoulders, the kiss deepening between their parted lips.  His plan was to pin the angel to the nearest tree behind him, but as soon as the idea flitted through, Dean felt himself pushed hard into a tree instead, dried bark crunching against his back as he let out a startled gasp.  A rush of wind accompanied the swift movement, Dean swearing his feet hadn’t been completely grounded.  _Fuck. Wings._

The thought alone made every part of him want to quiver.  Hell, he could remember the last time, how a brief brushing against his skin was a shock to the pleasure meter.  Oh _god._

Dean countered Cas’ underhanded move – intentional or not, he could play – with a barely-gentle bite to Cas’ lower lip, pressing back into the kiss before the whimper had halfway escaped the angel. 

Cas seemed to growl into the kiss, low and quiet in his throat, before he used the move against Dean, lightly nipping a corner of Dean’s lower lip.  Around them Dean heard a soft rustling before a quiet.  He felt Cas’ fingers beneath his shirt, holding the sides of his waist.  He could feel tendrils weaving heat through him, almost like they came from the tips of Cas’ fingers.  Hands that had been gripping onto Cas’ shoulders slid to wrap around his neck – at least until he froze, fingers coming into contact with what he sure as hell knew wasn’t Cas’ coat.

It was… wispy to the touch, almost like the feathery brush of a ghost, or a thick, chilly, _feathered-cut_ fog.  It sent ripples of what felt like tiny bolts of lightning through him, taking him to a realm of entirely new pleasure.  Even more… it left him helpless to Cas’ touch, to his own fraying sense of restraint. 

Cas’ fingers tracing circles along his skin was like fucking _sex itself_ , he would swear -- the angel’s lips a far more critical story.  Dean pressed himself desperately into those lips, moaning, now unable to stop quivering as he grasped Cas by the sides and pulled him as close as would allow for him to yank that goddamned in-the-way dress shirt out from its place. 

Cas let loose a sound of surprise, a breathless gasp leaving him when he felt Dean’s warm hands skim their way up his chest.

“Dean—“ he spoke against the man’s lips.  “You’re shaking.”

“Don’t stop,” Dean whispered breathlessly.

Cas didn’t know what Dean meant in particular, but warily he continued what he’d already been – kissing Dean, savoring the feel of Dean’s skin beneath his fingers.  Wary only because he worried of the swift change in Dean, the sudden persistence in which he clung to him.  He _did_ try to be careful.

Yes, he’d felt Dean come into contact with his wings, knowing well that it was not a very common thing for a human being to see, let alone _feel_ their presence in this plane of existence.  It had been a very strange… inviting sensation, and it sent more warmth than was already present toward the inward sparking of lightning he was accustomed to feeling when closely intimate with Dean. 

The difference was that _this_ warmth – the sort that came from Dean’s ability to sense and trace gentle fingers over his wings, a close extension of his grace -- it pacified. It wasn’t a lessening of the sensation of pleasure, but it took away the lightning and turned it into something that Cas could only define as something much more… _human_.

Cas felt himself becoming rapidly breathless, wishing he could pull all of Dean against him, uncovered and unhidden, but they were already so thoroughly close.  With uncertainty his hands moved to the front of Dean’s jeans, fingers sliding between the space of fabric and skin until his thumbs hooked and prevented them from exploring further.  Dean shivered against him. 

The kiss had broken, and Dean seemed to be crumbling, his face breathlessly buried into the side of his collared neck.  Cas felt Dean’s moan at the traveling of his hands – felt how it snuck its way into a now very-heated spot below his belt.  He could feel Dean’s arms beneath his shirt wrapped completely around him, clasped at his back.  He was sure he’d never experienced such a release of command within the hunter before, and he was struggling with a decision.

“I believe we… shouldn’t be doing this here,” Cas finally voiced.

There was a stretch of silence that made Cas unsure.  “Dean?”

“You serious?” he finally heard Dean mutter into his neck.

“Yes.  Your brother, you see…”

More silence and then Dean’s muscles tensed beneath Cas’ hands.  “ _Shit_ , I forgot about Sam _.  Holy shit_ , _is he looking_?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Cas replied, turning his head to look back at where they had seen Sam last. 

As soon as his eyes fell on him – a fair bit further away than where he’d been before, but still in sight – Cas saw Sam quickly turn around, head lifting in the same manner used when he had lied to Dean about saying something.

“Uh… yes.” His head turned back around, his mouth resting close to Dean’s ear. Because he had the chance, he gently nuzzled the spot of hair behind the hunter’s ear, breathing in the scent of him.

“Oh man, just kill me now,” Dean groaned as he finally tore himself away from where he’d been, content to have the time for a few pleasant breaths of Cas, but despairing as soon as he found out he’d completely neglected Sam and _oh god that he might have fucking_ seen _all of_ this _and what the hell kind of brother was he to risk that happening again?!_

“I’m not going to kill you, Dean,” Cas replied.  “I’m sure Sam will understand.”

“Understand what?  That I just came over here to talk and then ended up making out with you for what, fifteen minutes?”  Dean threw up his hands before taking one and running it through his hair, the other flattening down his shirt as if that’d make a difference.  Dean looked over to Cas, saw that he was a lot more tousled than he was, but decided _fuck it, it doesn’t matter anyway_.

“Interesting.  I lost track of time myself,” Cas commented lightly, glancing around the woods as if that would provide an answer.

Dean rocked on back and forth on the balls of his feet a few times, steadily breathing out as he stared at the ground.

“Are you nervous?” Cas questioned.

“Yes, I’m goddamn nervous,” Dean countered.

“Do you realize how you were acting?”

Here came the next round of random.  Dean glanced up to see Cas curiously watching him.

Dean had a sneaking suspicion the angel meant the moment he felt those damned wings of his, bringing him to the edge of something he wasn’t sure he wanted to return to.  Dean was pretty sure he lost himself from that point on.  Nothing but constant, electric fluxes of pleasure that had him shaking from the effort of trying to keep himself from both melting and _coming right then and there_.  It’d been so fucking difficult and so fucking hard to pull himself out of.  It wasn’t until Cas spoke up about stopping that the wing-frenzy seemed to fade.  Now the difficult thing was believing he’d fallen apart like that.  He… _never_ …

“How I was acting?” Dean asked, trying to play it cool.  He started to walk in Sam’s direction, simultaneously dreading facing his brother and being pried into further by Cas.

“After touching my wings,” Cas explained, looking down, taking step beside Dean.  “You were… clinging, shaking, pleading… in a sense.”

“That does _not_ sound like me,” Dean stiffened a bit. 

Both of them fell silent, which Dean was thankful for.  However, Dean’s reaction to his description hadn’t gotten past Cas.  _Dean… always defensive and withholding when he need not be.  Always a puzzle._

* * *

 

 

“Hey Sam,” Dean piped up first, sliding his way into a laidback return with all the hope in the world.

“Heyyyy, guys,” Sam responded, voice definitely not going for laidback.  “What’s going on in your neck of the woods?”

“Nothin’,” Dean threw back.  “Was thinking we could get to the monster-chasing.”

“Yeah, maybe we should,” Sam said, openly staring at Dean.

Dean fought not to grit his teeth.  _Oh come on, he was hardly the only one.  Was he the only one that was going to get a hard time for this?_  

“So what’s the problem, Bigfoot?”

“How about that?” Sam said with a taut smile, his head leaning toward Cas’ disarrayed dress shirt and sideways tie. 

Dean turned to look as if seeing it for the first time.  “Oh, that…” he began, “ _that_ is Cas’ usual getup.” 

Sam stood there, still waiting.  The trademark bitchface is what Dean was fired in full force.  For that, Sam wasn’t going to get any apologies.

“I swear, he really does wear that every… single… day,” Dean continued seriously, arms crossing over his chest.

“Really, Dean?” Sam reacted, unimpressed and mirroring Dean’s arms.

Cas, confused by their dialogue, glanced down at his attire as if he were missing something.  “Yes… I do wear this each day.”

“See?”

Sam rolled his eyes before imitating the response he was looking for.  “Okay, Sam.  I’m sorry, Sam, for making out with my boyfriend for _ages_ while you waited for me.  Oh, and after a potentially deadly fall that could’ve ended bad for all of us.  Sorry again and by the way, you’re the best.”

“Fine, just take that, then,” Dean settled, “Exactly what I would’ve said, thanks.”

“Sure,” Sam replied, drowning in their sarcasm, “No problem.”

“So where’s the dog?”

“Running that way,” Cas replied shortly, pointing to the north.

“What the hell, Sam?!  I thought you had a hold of her!” 

“What?  I _did_!” Sam’s head whipped around, gaze zeroing in on the leash hanging from the place it’d been tied around the tree.  “She must’ve gnawed her way out or—!”

Dean was already sprinting in that direction, well ahead of Sam.  There was no way they’d find the thing if it got too far ahead.  Not with all the trees and brush and how damn small it was.  No chance.

Cas showed up steps behind Dean, “She’s still on her master’s trial.”

“Good.”  Dean could see that he was gaining on it.

“Wait up!” Sam called from behind them, but Dean was focused. 

If they lost it, where the fuck where they?  Lost again.  He was too damn frustrated over this monster and this _town_ to have to lose it this time.  Looking ahead, Dean could see that he’d already managed to catch up.

Again with the heavy amount of trees.  Every other second he found himself ducking under one branch and jumping over a larger one decaying in the dirt.  It was getting harder to see the little thing darting in and out of leaves and bushes.  _Jesus, this thing better be close._

Dean thought he saw something rush by on his right.  So quick he barely caught sight of it. “I think there’s something following us.”

“I know,” Cas said, “It was her.” 

Cas disappeared in his usual rush.

Dean kept ahead, the dog still on a straight and narrow.  _Fuck, he was running out of fuel here.  Cas had better—_

Out of nowhere, from somewhere in the distance, “Dean!  STOP!”

_Cas._

Dean slid to a stop, breathing heavily, exerted from running.  He didn’t know what the fuck Cas had meant by stop, but here he was – stopped.  So where was Cas?  He searched all around him, drawing out his knife.  The dog had apparently gotten too far, nowhere in sight.  Behind him and a ways off he saw a small Sam-shaped silhouette running toward him, trying to catch up. 

Which just so happened to be one of the last things he saw before he felt something smash into the back of his head.  Black splotches -- those were next.  As he fell precariously forward, the forest floor was the last sight to wish him a happy sendoff.

 

* * *

 


	11. Peachy Level 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up about as long as three chapters combined, so I divided it. On the plus side, that means sooner updates? On another note, I was self-conscious writing the action scenes. Not a usual for me, but then again, this entire fanfic isn't. Overall, leave your thoughts and opinions, you precious human beings?

* * *

 

Cold was the first to slither its way into his senses.  As soon as it did, a painful ache stretched its way across his skull and down his neck.  With a groan, Dean stirred, eyes opening slowly to an overpowering light.  _Ah, fuck._ Squinting he realized he was looking across a room from the floor’s point of view, his cheek pressed into the cool cement.  Shelves lined the wall ahead of him, all dripping with god knew what, all of it sickly dark shades of red and maybe some purple.  Slimy veins of it hung down from the layered metal surfaces.

“Great,” he mumbled roughly, cursing how he’d managed to miss the ambush.

It took his vision a minute to adjust to the light, which was a bright bulb hanging down from the middle of the ceiling.  Glancing at it made his head pound – so did trying to lift his head, for that matter – but he grit his teeth against it and attempted to push himself into a sitting position.

 _God fucking damn it._ His wrists were bound.

He moved his fingers into the way-too-familiar technique that went with trying to worm his way out of the bindings.  He winced slightly, twisting his wrists as he tried to manipulate his arms upward, guessing it was wiring from the way the thin material dug sharply into his skin.

As he worked on this, he pushed against the floor with his shoulder, using the rest of his side to rock himself from his position lying on the floor to one where he was at least frickin’ sitting.  No way he was going to keep resting there like he was waiting for the damn thing.  Which was a great question – _where the fuck was it?  Where was he?  Where was Cas?  Where was Sam?_

Well with luck, better off than him.  The monster was only after him, or that at least remained their assumption

His eyes scanned the room some more.  It was an obvious basement, but not the one they’d seen before.  This one was half the size and didn’t have any sign of a secret backroom.  _Nah_ , _that was right in here with him_ , judging by the shelves.  A shut door was behind him, and as soon as he noticed he slid himself until his back hit the wall.  Using his legs and continuous lack of hands, he shoved his boots into the floor for leverage, pressing back into the wall for support.

 _Thank you_ , he inwardly thought, wondering why it was he was even still alive and breathing in the first place.  _Did the monster not know how things worked?  They never did, did they?  Leaving any of them breathing was a sure way for things to not go their way.  Huh, lucky for him._

Now that he was standing, he moved carefully toward the door, wishing to hell he had his knife or gun or goddamn _anything_ , but what would he do anyways – hold it in his mouth?  Turning himself around he wrapped a hand around the doorknob, leaning his body into a turn.  _Locked.  Of course._

 _Tools._   He walked over to a table free of the gut collections, seeing nothing helpful.  No windows either. 

He could smell the hint of something rancid and had a feeling he wasn’t going to get a break as soon as the rest of his senses caught up with him. 

Unenthusiastically he stepped over to the shelves, peering with disgust into the piles of what smelt like rotting piles of sour garbage, some of it still juicy.  Dean really doubted there was something like pliers beneath all of this gruesome shit.

He tried to turn his head and breathe in a fresh pocket of air, but that wasn’t happening.  “Jesus,” he murmured, backing off.  So now what?

_Cas, where art thou, Cas?_

Hell’s chance and he knew it, but he had to try.  He knew the moment Cas started talking about the angels losing track of these ‘unreachable’ monsters, Dean knew Cas wouldn’t be able to help them as he usually did.  No tracking meant there was little chance he could find him here.  But where the fuck had he even gone, and how come he hadn’t followed?

Hadn’t Sam been close enough to see?  Dean swore he’d seen him in his last second of alertness. Where did he end up?

 _Better not be goddamn dead._   _Too many close calls on this fucking case._

A light jingling sounded outside the room, and Dean’s attention immediately landed on the doorknob. _Well this was just peachy._  

Having no choice, Dean willfully stood his ground, waiting until he saw the monster enter through the door.  She bounced in like nothing was off about her in the whole fucking world – she looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen her.  Some cutesy little blonde with a dimpled smile.  Perfectly innocent.  Right.

“Oh, hi Dean!” she greeted, looking scarcely surprised that he’d awoken and was off the floor.

Dean glared in her direction.  “Hey, fancy meeting you here.”

She laughed.  “Don’t act like you’re not happy to see me again after the bad way things were left on our date.”

She stepped closer and Dean clenched his jaw, keeping still, not letting any fear give the time of day to this class-act.

“Cheer up, you tough little human,” she teased, placing a hand on one of his arms.  This time he did move – taking the second to shake off her touch.

“You bring me here to talk or tear me to pieces?”

“You make it sound so unladylike,” she pouted.  “I try to keep things civil and organized.”

“Oh yeah, I can tell,” he remarked, wondering how much more bullshit she was going to try and sweeten him up with.  “Why not knock me out a third time – show me these manners you think you have?”

An enigmatic smirk appeared on her face, causing Dean to momentarily doubt his goading.  Didn’t even get that much time to do it – a second later she violently thrust her hand into his chest, sending him crashing into the shelving behind him. His back hit it painfully, his eyes squeezing shut as he attempted to brace himself, but the force of it had him crumpling to the floor.  As his back throbbed – _fuck that was going to leave nasty bruises_ – he became vaguely aware of something wet, cold, and _rank_ draped over his neck.  _Son of a_ bitch _._

In the presence of the once-polite girl, the hell he’d squirm around like an idiot trying to fling it off in traumatized horror, but he did force himself back into a sitting position, trying to ignore the collection of human insides directly behind him.  And the slimy piece now hanging off of his _shoulder_.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the monster sarcastically apologized.  “Let me get that for you.  Can’t waste a perfectly good cord of intestines.”

She made his way toward him and picked it up without a glimmer of care, leaning over him to place it back on the shelf.  Meanwhile Dean turned his head, swallowing back the sudden urge to vomit up his entire stomach.

“You are one fucked up bitch,” he growled, feeling his frustration mounting.  The wiring was impossible to maneuver out of; he could feel threads of blood trickling from around his wrists between his fingers.

“Listen.”  She crouched down in front of him, way too close for comfort.  “I didn’t judge _your_ diet.”  A smile.  “Funny that you’ll now be a part of mine, huh?”

Dean stared hard at her.  “Bite me.”

Another clear mistake. 

“Sure!” she chirped happily as she swiftly gripped his shoulders, yanking him forward to sink her teeth into the thin flesh of his neck.

His jaw tightened as what felt like a set of needles stabbed into him, his gritted teeth muffling a stunned grunt of pain.  _Nope, definitely_ not _human teeth._

“Get the hell off of me!” He rammed both his legs forward, aiming for her own.  The teeth tore away from his neck as she lost her balance and fell back.  Not wasting another second he tried as quickly as possible to lift himself to his feet.  He was getting the hang of it. 

And because there was nothing else he could goddamn do, he vehemently kicked her while she was down.  She let out a pissed-off hiss, her head turning up to glare at him, throwing him off when he saw her usual face twisted into a fanged snarl, the whites of her eyes now a blood-red. 

Obviously not down yet, he aimed to kick her again, but with speed that dazed him as much as her unnatural strength, she grabbed his leg and twisted it.

An indignant string of curses shot through his mind as he found himself crashing back into the floor, landing on his bound hands, screwing his wrists up even more.  To make it that much better, his head collided with the cement, a sharp ache eating away at the place he’d already been knocked a good one.

Blinking up at the ceiling, he saw the same black splotches.  _If this psycho gives me brain damage, I’m going to be beyond pissed._

* * *

 

 

“Cas!” Sam called, spotting the angel after ceaseless minutes of hunting the woods for Dean. 

There was no doubt about it.  He was beginning to panic, not knowing where the hell Dean had been taken.  All he’d seen was his brother getting knocked to the ground and slung over the shoulder of the insanely petite girl-monster, who disappeared far too quick for him to catch up.  By the time he got there, there were zero signs of them-- or the dog. 

“Sam,” Cas replied, looking pretty out-of-shape than what was his usual.  He was standing in place, eyes widened slightly.  “It took Dean.  I couldn’t stop it.”

“I know,” Sam muttered breathlessly, having just burst through a spot of trees.  He’d run into a sight he really wished he didn’t have to see.  To think Cas managed to catch up to Dean and the monster had been his only comfort.  “What are you doing here?  What happened?”

“Enochian sigils.  I’m trapped here.  I don’t understand... how.  I can only assume they were constructed underground… under me.”

Sam’s stomach flipped uncomfortably.  “Can they be broken?”

“Possibly, but you would have to dig.  I don’t know how far.”

“Do you—do you think he’s okay?” Sam agonized, dropping the bag they’d had along with them – a bunch of the standard weapons from the back of Dean’s car, all but the knife and gun Dean had on him.  Hopelessly he glanced around, trying to spot something decent he could possibly dig with.

“I don’t know,” Cas replied, his stare downcast, fingers twitching in what looked like nervousness.  Sam had to feel bad for the guy – he’d never seen him quite this forlorn since the whole thing with Dean came to light.  _They’d really gotten under each other’s skin, hadn’t they?_

“Well, Dean is usually able to take care of himself,” Sam reassured, knowing it was said for the both of them.  _Dean better be kicking ass right now._

* * *

 

 

“You know why I chose you?” it asked him, leaning over him like a goddamn prom date trying to seduce him.  Only difference was her hands gripped both of his knees, trapping them against the floor as he laid there defenselessly.

“Because I’m adorable?” he joked without humor. 

He stared up at the ceiling, watching the black fade from his vision.  There was a constant throbbing of nearly every part of his body – mostly his frickin’ head.  A stream of blood seeped from the side of his neck, probably pooling under him with the rest of the holes that were made in him.

“Because your blood _burns_ with need,” she purred.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he shot back, asking but suddenly remembering what Cas had told them – their name meant ‘needy eater,’ which  Dean had thought was more straightforward.  _They needed to eat, sure.  But now?_

She sensed his uncertainty, so elaborated.  “What?  You didn’t figure it out? I know what you are now, you and your company.  Cas and Sam… you’re all hunters.  One of them quite a special kind of hunter, isn’t he?  But oh yes, as soon as you entered this town, your scent floated right on over.”

“What, you’re some kind of tiny flea-monster?” Dean insulted, thinking back on all that tied back to something to do with goddamn dogs.

“No,” she said with a partial glare, “But I do like them, as you can probably tell.  I only coincidentally have a keen sense of smell.  But _only_ for you needy humans.”

“Sorry to say, but I think your nose bit the dust somewhere down the line.  I don’t have any _needs_.”  And yet Dean couldn’t help but shift his eyes, fighting to keep cool as he thought of Sammy.  Thought of… Cas.  I mean what the hell – he’d only just thrown himself into a crazy makeout session with the guy.  He swore he could _feel_ Cas in that moment, feel him work his way _inside_ of him, and hell had it felt so strangely _right_.  He wondered where Cas was now.  Had she taken them all?  _Fuck, he couldn’t mull over this now._

“Right,” he heard above him. 

With disgust he finally looked at her.  Well, her teeth were back to normal, and oh look, she was clean enough to lick the blood off of her lips.  Awesome.

“What?” he glared.

“ _You_?  Not needy?”  She laughed.  “Come on, Dean.  You know you.  I know you and I barely know you.  Honestly you were all a car-full of needy, but you, you were the most delicious.”

“Where the hell do you get all this?”

“I was at the diner, silly, when you first got here.  It’s one of my favorite places to browse.  Sadly the town’s getting a little thin, but then you boys drove in.  Then there you were, a flower to be picked.” She lowered herself further and from his chest inhaled.

Dean fought not to cringe.  Why the hell were all monsters so damn weird?

“You need Sam like you need air.  Without him, your life would have no purpose,” she whispered, the depth of her words making him uneasy.  “You need Cas like he’s the part of you that you’re missing.  Am I right?” she suddenly perked up.

“You don’t know _anything_ about me,” he defended, feeling a sickening coiling within him.  Hearing her mention Sam and Cas had him wishing he knew they were alright – more than he already wished.  It made him want to know that this fucked up thing wasn’t just toying with him while they laid dying in another room.

Again she laughed at him.

“I’m right.  I’m always right.  There’s a reason my kind was hunted by the top dogs.  Angels?  They destroyed all of us.  Well, _most_ of us.  So far I’m the only one _I_ know of.  When we figured out how to deal with the pesky angels, hunters ran across us by chance.  My family was killed by hunters, did you know?  But that was a long time ago.  Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against them.”

“There a reason you’re telling me this?”

“Just some knowledge before you die.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean taunted, not letting on that her mention of his death flicked on the switch for biding as much time as he could.  He didn’t know what the hell he was going to do to get out of this one.  He couldn’t help but think this just might be it – because now, more than ever, help from Sam or Cas was… needed.   “How about telling me how you screwed up so bad?  Not much of a threat, are you?”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Everything’s to plan.”

“Sure, like when you took me home and ate me then.”

Dean could feel the grips on his legs tightening.  _Good, better she be pissed._

“And good job turning them into dogs.  That accomplished a lot.  How’s your arm?”

She suddenly growled, launching herself off of him.  “Idiot.  That _precious angel_ wouldn’t just accept his fate.  It was perfect.  You’re all hunters, and what more fitting animal to be than dogs?” 

The monster was ranting, which Dean found both a relief and chance to sit up.  His head spun. 

“A slight misjudgment!  How could I know you two were in _love_ with each other?  Seriously, a sealed-off human like you and an angel, the supposed _pure_ creatures of heaven?  You two are ridiculous.  You went on a date with me, for christ’s sake.”  She whipped her head around, staring at him.  For a moment the red glint in her eyes had him fearing for the seconds of his life that were left, but she merely grinned at him.  A really, _really_ gross grin.

“But you could feel it.  How long did it take before you felt _lonely_ , felt like they were steadily _becoming_ dogs?  It would’ve been perfect, like every other time.”

Dean tried to draw in long, heavy breaths to steady the dizziness, trying to ignore her observations like she’d been watching him the whole fucking time.

“The angel toughened his way through the spell and bit me, so what?  Not a scratch left.  So he put me behind my meal a little?  Big deal, you’re here now.”

“Why not just move on?” Dean grilled her.

“We _can’t_ ,” she spat.  “As soon as we’ve got our target, that’s it.  That’s all we need.  We need it so much we can’t be driven away.  Even if I _could_ , you do a poor job at pushing me away.  Your scent got needier by the second, once that angel was back to normal.  _Ahhh_ ,” she visibily shivered.  “It burns at me.  I’m almost debating having the angel for dessert rather than keeping them two as life-long guard dogs.  Sam might do.”

“Don’t you fucking dare go near them,” Dean ground out.  “I’ll last you weeks, and there are enough dogs in your damn collection.”

“Not nearly.”

“How about you let them go in exchange for me letting you have me?”

A bark of laughter left her.  “I already do.”

“Yeah, but what you don’t know is that I’ll kick your ass.  You’ll be dead before you get a full bite.  Don’t want your meal to kill you, do you?”  As he said this, he used the aching muscles in his legs and maneuvered into a stand.  _Fuck it, he’d climb up and down from the floor all day if he had to.  This bitch wouldn’t win._

“Try me,” she challenged, her freaky monster fangs returning to life.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam pushed a dirty hand through his hair, keeping it out of his face as he leaned down to scoop out the hugest pile of dirt that he could.  He took the large stick he’d found earlier and continued to dig from what they hoped was the last hole.

“I apologize, Sam,” Cas said.

“No problem, man.  Once we get you out of this, it’ll be a lot faster than me going off to find Dean by myself.  I have no idea where they’d be or how big this forest is.”

“About twenty-two square miles.”

Sam glanced over at Cas, smile turning up one side of his face.  “Not too big for you then?”

“It’s very inconsiderable compared to the distances I’ve travelled before.  Of course, nothing is further from here than Heaven.”

Cas looked contemplative.  Sam wondered if he was trying to think of anything that didn’t have to do with the idea of Dean being in danger.  Sam wouldn’t blame him.  Each minute that dwindled by, he felt the anxiety build. 

After maybe five more minutes, while Sam was scooping dirt from a two-foot hole, his fingers hit a smooth, cool surface.  “Found it.”

Cas turned his head skyward back to Sam.  He remained quiet.

“So this is the last symbol that completes the circle binding?”

“Yes, I’m certain.”

Sam used his hands to push and pull the stone from the dirt below, finally lifting it from its hiding place.  Like he’d done with the four before, he took a spare stone he picked up elsewhere and roughly ground it into the Enochian etching.

“What’s the chance it’ll have the same thing surrounding its house?”

“High,” Cas sighed, “But I won’t allow myself to be bound again.”

“Alright, got it.”  Sam tossed the expunged stone aside to join the rest of the pile.  “So you’ll—“

But like that, Cas disappeared. 

 _Well okay then._ Sam raised his hands in bemusement, clapped the excess dirt off of his hands, then went over to retrieve the bag of supplies.  Just as he slung it over his shoulder, Cas abruptly appeared in front of him. 

Sam couldn’t stop his small jump.  After recovering, “So what’d you find?”

“A ruined cabin two and a quarter mile from here, but I can’t enter.  There are more sigils buried around the area.”

“How many?”

“Ten… to utilize the power of two bindings.”

“Great,” Sam huffed softly.  “How about I go in when we get there to make sure Dean’s you know—“  _Alive._   “—okay.”  Sam swallowed.

“I wouldn’t go in alone.  There are reasons these creatures were on an angel’s list to hunt.”

“Yeah, but me and Dean, we’ve taken—“

“I’m sorry, Sam, but I’m to look after you when Dean’s in trouble.”

Huh, Sam didn’t remember when Cas decided to go all parental on him, but he wasn’t going to argue.  Somehow it seemed smarter to trust an angel’s judgment on the level of danger. 

What Sam liked the _least_ about what Cas said was exactly that – these creatures were dangerous, right?  Too much for both him and Dean, apparently.  So what were they going to find when they got there?

“Okay, well let’s go get him.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Man, he was so screwed.  So screwed._

Dean managed to dodge her first attack, seeing the threat in her stance – well, that and her entering frickin’ beast mode – but hell was it tricky in a small room without arms at his disposal.  He really missed his knife.

“Cat and mouse, Dean?” she growled.

“You mean flea-bag and badass?” Dean provoked.

“It’s cute when you’re trying to be funny.”

Dean ignored that one, continuing to walk along one wall, eyes trained on her as they both read each other’s movements.  Reading with the exception of exceptions, anyway.  Luckily for Dean, he guessed right again, avoiding her attempt to knock him back.

 _Y’know, if he could at least kick without the risk of tipping over, that would be awesome._ Dean ran the idea through his head, but ---

She pounced when he reached a basement corner, and only because it was in the same second and it was all he had, he swung a kick in her direction, using all the force in his turn that he could manage.

He heard a pained whine and it took him a moment to realize he’d closed his eyes.  Hesitantly he opened one eye.  She was down, arms around her stomach.  _Sweet._ Dean didn’t stand around this time, instead going for the basement door.  Only way out, so there was only one way to get out.  He stepped back a few paces before rushing forward, the bottom of his boot connecting with the door.

It shook, but didn’t budge.

He saw ‘Lily’ pushing herself gingerly from the floor, her breathing labored.

He kicked hard at the door again.  That time it gave a little.

“Dean,” she giggled.  Dean found the sound of it unpleasant coming out her distorted face.  “You’ll never see your brother and the angel again.”

The confidence in her tone threw him, and for a second his breath stopped in his throat.  By the door, he tried to gather himself before he said something stupid again.  “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“That’s because I _am_.”

“Trying to con me into thinking you did something to them?  Because somehow I don’t think you’re that fast, or that strong.”

“Awh, but I turned them into dogs once, didn’t I?  Dogs can’t unlock and open doors.”

Dean chuckled before he could stop himself.  _Couldn’t open doors, huh?_   Dean could think of at least one that could open doors.  The thought, though irritating at the time, caused him to smile now.  _Funny… thinking of that stupid angel could get him smiling when faced with this damn stupid death.  Death by what was it – Egedenti?  Could be worse,_ he decided.

“They’d rip your ugly face off,” he countered, smirking.

The creature had clearly recovered from its blow to the stomach.  Healing powers made a crappy opponent.  “I’d believe you, but you’ve already failed to kill me.”

Dean shrugged.  “Unfair advantage.” He casually lifted up his arms as far as they’d rise, dropping them back down a lot sooner than he expected.  Now that the adrenaline had died down a bit, he could feel the weakness inside of him.  _Yeah yeah_ , so he was bleeding from his wrists, neck, and without a doubt from the back and side of his head.  So?  He’d taken worse.  Vaguely he noticed half of his shirt was soaked in blood. 

“You don’t smell so good.  All of that _need_ is draining from you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean responded dismissively. 

“So you don’t care about my dessert choice anymore?”

 _The hell he didn’t._ Dean immediately tensed, attempting to collect whatever strength he had left inside of him.  This bitch really was toying with him.  A more practiced monster would’ve ripped his throat out by now.  Maybe she really was like a cat – sure played with food like one.  Maybe there was a chance.

Dean sprinted to the side, rounding toward the shelf of Hannibal goodies.  Out of nowhere he felt hands around his wrists, yanking him backward.  “Got you,” she hissed into his ear. 

He threw his head back, steeling himself as their skulls collided and she let out an angry cry.  Dean was proud until he took one step and was on the floor face-first, those abnormal sets of teeth sinking into the back of his leg.  “Seriously?” he shouted, now wondering how much more of this he could take.  His leg burned like her teeth were laced with branding irons.

He attempted to turn his head to look back, but on the way he saw exactly where they were.  She was lying right before her precious shelf, face buried in his leg.  Gritting his teeth he rolled over and used his free leg to kick her head off of him.  As soon as that worked – _second time,_ really _?_ – he budged over and used his legs to hook around the front bar of the metal shelf setting. 

It took an insane amount of effort in his waning state, but he had enough.  It tilted over, guts and all, and crashed on top of her just as he jerked his legs out of the way. 

Dean didn’t know if that had even taken care of it, so he hurried to get to his feet, not wanting to wait for his strength to croak either.  Stumbling back to the door, he was now suffering big-time from the blood-loss.  Everything looked hazy around him.  “Dammit,” he muttered.  Not yet.  _Sam_. _Cas_.  _He had to see if they were okay_.  Starting at the back, he ran and crashed a foot into the door.  The setting of the lock cracked.  Another kick and he heard the separation.

 _Hell, what a workout_.  Exhausted and breathing heavily, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and didn’t expect the haze to suddenly shift into a heavy fog, his side colliding with the floor.

With his head resting on dirty tiles, he was barely conscious as he spoke into the nothingness. _Cas, you and your special lightning around?  Think I got her… Cheesy, but it’d be cool to see you and Sam are breathing before I go…_

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you hear that?” Sam asked in the midst of digging, turning to stare at the cabin only six or so feet away from them.  His heart beat faster.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, distressed.  He paced a small space beside Sam, fingers fidgeting as he stared without stop at the cabin.  He couldn’t see inside of it. No, he couldn’t see anything of what might be going on, but he had heard the crash and felt his wings rustle and open by their own volition.  He’d also heard several bangings, like someone was trying to free themselves, but these he didn’t mention to Sam.  What good would the fear do for him?  He would harbor it instead.  “I can’t get in.  This is… _infuriating_.”

 _Dean is alive, Dean is alive_ was flying through his mind on repeat, frustrating him more and more every instant that passed.  So close and yet he could do nothing.  He had abilities granted by the powers of Heaven and he could do _nothing._ He had once asked Dean if he felt safe and Dean had given him more than what was… classic, for his nature.  _I feel better when you’re around._

Did Dean feel safe now?  Now that he was not around?  He had already failed.

“Seriously, maybe I should just go in,” Sam offered.  Castiel could hear worry. 

Castiel could feel that sensation mirrored in himself.  For once he wished to be rid of it.  There was once a time where emotion was easier to ignore.  He was not familiar with its intricacies.  He was close to no one but his brethren, but even so, there was a distinct different in their classification of _closeness_. He could finish a task without debate.  Orders were orders.  Humans were to be protected, but what did emotions matter to angels? A brother fell in the line – Castiel would remember who they were – but did he ever _feel_ their loss? 

Now that so much time was spent around the two Winchesters – _Dean is still alive_ – he felt increasingly overwhelmed.  And at the moment?  Very much consumed by it, and he wasn’t sure where nor how to channel it.

He didn’t know what decision to make.  _Powerless_.  _Useless._

“Cas?” Sam questioned, now worried about two beings.  Castiel felt anxious eyes on him.  “There’s this one I have to get, and then one more, but my brother’s in there and it’s making this really difficult.” It was as if Sam were pleading, but Castiel could understand his desperation.

“If you go in there… and you are caught, then I won’t be able to save either of you,” he spoke, turning a shattered gaze on the younger Winchester.

Sam didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but eventually his resolve melted into determination.  “Okay.”

A voice sounded within Castiel, drifting like a call from above, embedding itself in his grace as it did every time.  _Dean’s voice_.  He hung to the man’s words.  _Cas, you and your special lightning around?  Think I got her… Cheesy, but it’d be cool to see you and Sam are breathing before I go…_

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, wishing the words were simpler to comprehend.  _Dean was alive… Dean was alive… but…_

His stare burned their way into the cabin, wondering why it couldn’t just let him see where Dean _was_. 

“Go where?” he ended up asking out loud.  “ _Cheesy_ …? _”_

“What?” Sam queried from his side.  He’d found another sigil and was hurriedly scratching away at the symbol.

His voice brought Castiel to higher awareness.  He stepped over when Sam moved to where he judged the next sigil would be placed, given the circle they’d uncovered already. 

“What would he mean by ‘ _cheesy_ ’ and that he wants to see us before he goes off somewhere?  Could he have escaped behind…?”

As soon as the prospect arised, Castiel disappeared.

Sam was momentarily speechless, but then it clicked.  He’d sprinted forward before Castiel had reappeared.

“He wasn’t—“ Castiel began, but spotted Sam running for the front door.  “Sam!”

When the man disappeared, Castiel felt a fiercely unpleasant darkness sink into him, like watching the last of all that he had here on earth – all he had anywhere – slip from his fingers.  _Powerless.  Useless._

_Alone._

* * *

 

 

Sam came to with a wet sensation soaking into the hair around his face.  Blearily he lifted his head, looking around at dusty cabinets, ahead toward a broken—a broken door?  The scent of blood invaded his nose, and in a fit of panic he saw Dean lying beside him, on his side and skin a sickly shade of pale.  Treks of blood had made their way down his neck, dripping onto the floor beneath him.  Dean’s shirt and jacket were soaked with it, his head of hair damp with the dark red.  It didn’t take long to spot that one pants leg was soaked too.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, filled with immense dread as it felt like all blood in his own body drained away.  But what came out of his mouth wasn’t his voice.  With terrified realization, he tried to say softly, “Dean.”

Nothing but a soft, whining bark left him.

_Dean couldn’t be… he wouldn’t be…_

Sam let out another loud bark, pushing his large head into Dean’s chest.  He didn’t move.  He pushed his wet nose into Dean’s face, licking the side of it despite the weirdness that would’ve caused in any other situation.  But this wasn’t just _any other_ situation.

He barked again, determined to get some sort of response.  He even licked Dean’s closed eyes – because no he would _not fucking die._

Finally Dean moved, a soft, barely-existent breath released from between his lips.  His eyes opened half-lidded and he looked dimly at Sam.  “Sammy… not even your prettier face? What a lame joke…” he murmured quietly, a small grin pointed at Sam despite his feigned disappointment.

Sam whined, louder and longer than he could control.  He pushed into Dean’s leg, an encouragement for him to get up so they could get the hell out of here.

“Nah, Sammy. Not now. Too tired…” Dean mumbled.

Without anymore thought, Sam bolted out of the cabin.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been three… maybe five excruciating minutes that Castiel stood waiting outside, every inch of his body unmoving, his fists clenched at his sides.  _Why hadn’t Sam come out yet?  Had the creature gotten to him as well?  Or was Dean not—not well?_

But an answer was given as he saw Sam sprinting back outside – and not human in the slightest, but within his canine configuration.  Castiel frowned. 

Sam was barking frantically.  Castiel could only translate the jumble of disorganized thought that was _Dean Dean Dean is hurt Dean Dean is dying_.

But Sam was yanking on the edge of his trenchcoat, trying to urge him forward.  “Sam, I can’t--!  The sigils!”

Castiel bristled, the idea of Dean – only human – broken, hurt, and _dying.._.  It made him—made him increasingly, overwhelmingly _furious_.  He could feel it stirring inside of him, could feel the very spirit of the emotion tug at the essence of his grace, twisting it…inversely.  Never before had it feel this way, not a single time when utilizing his powers.

His wings stretched out at his sides, itching to take him inside.  Sam was digging just as desperately at the dirt.  It was much faster work as a dog, which Sam was grateful to notice.  Before he knew it, the stone emerged and Sam quickly took it into his mouth, sharp teeth gnawing and scraping against it.

Castiel could feel the barrier weakening.  Could almost see the air thinning itself of its presence.  At last.  _Dean._   

 

* * *

 


	12. Peachy Level 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, my much-worshipped readers. The end is never a swell time for me. I get very nervous about ends and their possible faults while in my hands. But I do, as always, hope you enjoy.  
> *(I do have a bit of a much-lighter epilogue, but I don't think I'll be posting it. So for those who may be interested, you can message me on tumblr. My name's the same as it is on here. I may just have more SPN fanfic planned for the future...)*

* * *

_How foolish had he been to not think?_   Sam had only just come to him as a canine.  As he opened his eyes to the sound of Sam’s fervent barking, he knew right away.  He ignored the inevitable blur and brief loss of coordination.  He scrambled forward, nearly colliding with Sam on the way to Dean. 

At the sight of him, Castiel was hit with a profoundly unfamiliar, penetrating sensation, much like the darkness that enveloped him outside.  However, unlike before, this travelled much deeper.  It reached into the very core of him, only to burst outward, shooting through the currents of his now suppressed grace.  So much that it overtook the vessel itself, all parts of it reacting to this sensation as if he really _were_ part of this world.  His eyes stung and he no longer felt his limbs. 

Sam was nudging Dean, attempting to rouse him.

A groan left Dean, weak and fatigued.  “C’mon, Sammy…m’sleeping.”

Castiel could not fathom why, but he was frozen.  He couldn’t breathe.  A large part of Dean was withering away – all that Castiel had put together in his days of lesser emotion – _all of it… draining… dying_ … and Castiel felt oddly adrift.

Sam looked over at him.  It wasn’t until a sharp bark rang in his ears that he willed himself to move.  He paced over to Dean’s side.  The man appeared as empty as Castiel himself felt, but that burning in his eyes persisted.  There was the strong smell of blood and no sign of the familiar scent of Dean. 

He noticed the wiring around Dean’s wrists and pressed his nose to it, the material that had been clinging into Dean’s flesh instantly loosening.  Dean’s arms fell weakly, but Castiel pushed his nose into the man’s bloody palms, staying there until the wounds vanished.

Sam whined beside him.

Castiel lowered his head to level with Dean’s own, gently nudging his nose against Dean’s.  When the man opened his eyes, Castiel found it a lot like watching a leaf break away from a tree during the fall season of this world, the brilliant but dying leaf slowly drifting its way toward the ground.  The green he saw was dim, but Dean seemed to be smirking. 

“Both of you tryin' to torture me by coming as my favorite animal,” he sighed, voice cracking.  “Pretty dumb, huh?  It barely got a taste and I’m already a goner...”

“Hey…Cas..”  Dean slowly raised an arm, even though lifting his head didn’t seem something he could do.  The arm sank into the side of Cas’ furry head, grasping weakly at him.  “Not feelin’ that lightning…”

Castiel lowered his head further, whining quietly.  He was confused from the start about what Dean had meant by the lightning.  But given it seemed relevant to touch, Castiel now wondered if it had something to do with the feeling he himself had gotten during those intimate moments with Dean.  It had been the only way to describe that very specific crackling of energy that came with feeling blissfully connected with the man.  And yet the last time it faded, giving him a peculiar warmth instead.  Had it travelled its way into Dean?  Was that the cause of his shaking?

Castiel needed to ask these questions.  _Needed_ to know Dean Winchester.  _To die now and in this way?  This couldn’t be his fate._   If someone were to question this, even if it were his Father himself, Castiel would _not_ allow it.

A clattering came from the room beyond them, which caused both him and Sam to look to the side, toward the broken door, ears perked.

Dean’s hand had sank its way to the floor, and after a lingering stare, Castiel finally turned away from him, nudging Sam to ease him out of the way.

Sam only looked at him, head tilted as he tried to read Castiel.

 _No,_ he would not have the other Winchester go in there to risk his life as well.  There was no reason to it, and Sam would remain safe.  Castiel shook his head, then pointed it toward Dean.  Sam hesitated, barking softly, but eventually he turned heel.

Castiel began his way down the one step between the cabin’s kitchen and its basement.  Hidden behind the partially closed door had been a fallen shelf of some kind, filled with the remnants of human victims undoubtedly belonging to the creature before him.  The sight of it made his fur stand on end, and the fury from outside was reignited, rotating the grace he wished had remained full-force in this terribly unhelpful vessel.

“Oh look, the angel.  Finally got beyond those traps?  Too bad you’re a little too late for Dean,” it cooed.  “Looks like he took the time to open the door for you.”

Castiel could scarcely register its words.  They were of no relevance.  Dean was going _nowhere_ and doors were trivial.  It stood there – small and deceptively human -- cradling what looked like the last of a healing broken arm, and Castiel was unreservedly done with this evil.

He growled in its direction.  “Glowing a little there,” it commented casually.  “If you’re going to kill me, I’ll tell you that angels normally come in pairs to destroy a single one of us.”

But Castiel didn’t care what it had to tell.  He felt blinded.  With a snarl he bounded toward the monster, and in the breadth of a blink – he was thrown against the nearby wall, its laughter in tow.  A hurt yelp escaped, but he was quick to ignore the pain and regain his footing.  _All he needed was a drop._

Oddly, he saw it rushing to the door, which Castiel considered a flaw in judgment.  _Were they really so determined for that singular meal?_ The thought alone that it would pursue Dean in his already depleted state allowed the fury to grow.  To know that _Sam_ was in danger gave it an even higher boost.  He leapt at it, catching it by the leg and tossing it to the other side of the room.

“Stupid animal,” it sneered, face creased with pain. 

Castiel, however, tasted the blood.  As soon as it entered his system, the change was inescapable.  Castiel could feel the fury-reversed grace storming inside of him, charged without delay.  He rose from the floor, energy dancing around the room, filling it with the unsettling heaviness that was his wrath.

He strode forward, and as if only paper, ripped one of the metal bars from the shelf.  He saw frozen astonishment in the creature’s face, but it was only a temporary sight.  He seized it by one shoulder, lifting it effortlessly from the floor before the metal rod was forced through its torso.  There was a gasp, maybe an expiring scream, but Castiel, again… did not care.

It collapsed to its knees as Castiel held both sides of its head.  He lowered his own, summoning every fragment of his fury into the grace that soon exploded around them, filling the basement with an ethereal brightness.

When it dissipated, Castiel let go.  The evil crumpled to the floor.  _And on this day, it was nothing._

 

* * *

Castiel stepped back into the shambled kitchen, where Sam was sitting with his face resting against Dean’s middle.  Only by a mere fraction, Castiel could see Dean was breathing.

Back in his accustomed vessel, it was easier now to sense Dean, to see and sense his singularly beautiful, yet hastily fraying soul.  Its presence was faint – fainter than before he’d left the room. 

“Sam,” Castiel alerted, “The blood.”

He produced a full vial from nowhere but the palm of his hand, tilting it in aid when Sam ambled over with an opened mouth.  Then he promptly wandered over to the living area of the cabin.  Which Castiel was headed to, once he leant down to carefully lift Dean into his arms.  His head hung limply.

Castiel could see Dean’s soul clinging like wisps to the blood that had collected on the floor, and he stood, staring into the human that was once full of earthly color and light – spirit and creation – all that made humans so fascinatingly _human,_ and all that made Dean Winchester one he must save _._

This… _colorlessness, lifelessness, and troubling quiet…_ Castiel didn’t like it.  He would have Dean as he always was– _broken… pained… difficult, but also strong, determined… curiously unregimented… full of passion and unpredictably kind.  Mere words would never suitably describe Dean Winchester._ All of it wound into this damaged soul, _the only one of its kind_.

Castiel had discovered love within and… _for_ this Dean.

He moved to lay Dean down on a worn couch that sat beneath a long-shattered window.  Castiel moved so that he could sit himself down at its end, so that he could gently lift and allow Dean’s head to rest in his lap. 

Castiel realized in melancholy that Dean’s blood coated his hands.  Wherever he looked, there was more and more of it.  More than he knew how to… emotionally handle, but this was _part_ of Dean and it felt wrong to will it away with a turn of hand.

He cupped the side of Dean’s face that was slanting away from him.  Tenderly his thumb stroked the man’s dirty, paled cheek.

“Dean, you’re safe now,” he murmured, unaccustomed to the feebleness in his voice.  But he continued.  “I’ll fix everything.”

Sam was walking over, but Castiel couldn’t take his eyes away from Dean, waiting for color to return to his face, to the entirety of his being.

“He’s going to be alright, right?  You can bring him back?” Sam asked tentatively from where he stood beside the couch.

“He hasn’t gone anywhere,” Cas replied brusquely, a moment later feeling sorry.  “That is, to say, yes… he’ll be fine.”

Castiel could hear Sam let go a sigh of relief.  “I honestly thought—seeing him like that, that—“ Sam didn’t finish, the ending apparently clear.

Castiel knew what Sam meant to say, and indeed it was all very difficult now, as he noticed when he tried to open his mouth to comfort him.  But he merely swallowed heavily, aware again of the unpleasant stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes.  When he blinked, there was only momentary relief. 

“Hey, and are you… okay?” Sam asked.

He wasn’t heard, Castiel too focused on guiding his healing powers into Dean.  He was being more cautious than ever, not wanting to set anything awry. 

Placing his free hand beneath Dean’s head, he could feel the blunt-force wounds had finally closed.  The deep gash at the side of his neck was halfway there, but Dean wasn’t stirring like he’d been before.

“Cas?  You in there?”  Sam gave a little wave to catch his eye, and Cas blinked again, looking up. 

“You okay?  Because uhm—well… you’ve been crying,” Sam let that drop, standing there awkwardly like a good friend would.  Hell, like _family_ would.

“Oh?” _Was that the stinging?_ Castiel lifted a hand and rubbed his face into the sleeve of his coat, sniffing faintly before holding it back to note the fabric was spotted with moisture  “I must not be okay.”

“Well, you can cry in happiness, not just pain or sadness.” Sam put forward, placing himself in a chair that was on another wall and dragging it closer to where the the couch was.  “I didn’t really know… angels _could_ cry.”

“We were not made to cry, but humanity can alter this…” Castiel openly replied, “I know I’m not happy at the moment, only pained with a… sadness.”

Sam shifted anxiously. “Can’t say there’s not a _really_ good reason to be feeling that right now.”

Sam would admit that this was a _little_ weird, Cas being so close and _sad_ and _gentle_ with Dean, but Sam had gotten used to a lot, like Dean’s noxious use of his computer, his forever-blaring classic rock, his ridiculous flirting when it came to waitresses, and on and on the list went…  _so,_ he could get used to this as long as it meant being there for his big brother.  And Sam likedCas, so the problem was really only getting used to the fact that Dean _adored_ the guy. 

Hell, Dean had practically killed himself jumping off a cliff just to get to him.  How could he _not_ be here for Dean?  And here he was again, for fuck’s sake.  Making everyone agonize over the _what ifs_ and the idea of him… _gone_.  Sam had lost Dean too many times already.

_Really, just… what a… moron._  

And suddenly Sam was about to cry, too.  _Crap._   He looked away with a small sniff, trying to be discreet even though he’d literally just consoled Cas in the way of shedding some tears.

Castiel had no notice, anyway.  All of him was still focused on Dean, who still hadn’t regained color. 

It provoked worry; he was sure his powers weren’t _quite_ this slow, despite knowing it took a lot more to refill a body of blood than it did a broken ankle or concussion.  He could feel a nervous pulse jump to life inside of himself, his hand moving to Dean’s neck to check.  Everything beat properly, though Castiel had known purely by sense.  _Where was Dean?_

“Dean,” Castiel spoke, tapping him lightly with the hand that had returned to cupping his face.  “Open your eyes.”

“Is something wrong?” Sam’s eyebrows narrowed in concern. 

“Yes…” Cas said quickly.

“What—what do you mean?”

“I mean… no.  He’s breathing.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you kidding?  I mean, Cas, you’re an _angel,_ ” Sam stated just as he got how rude that might’ve come off. _Cas was doing all he could.  Way more than you can do right now.  Chill._ “I’m sorry, I just meant that you know a little about lives and the—the healing.”

“This is true, but—“

“Shut… _up_ , guys…” Dean mumbled from out of the blue, which caused both of them to naturally notshut up.

“Dean!” they both exclaimed.

But he seemed to be going under already, consciousness barely keeping hold. 

Castiel tried to grasp it. Dean’s soul continued to weave itself in and out of the place it should be restoring itself to, but much like the essence that was Dean, it wouldn’t settle peacefully.  “He needs to stay awake,” Castiel explained in panic.

“Alright,” Sam said, equally panicked by the sudden change in Cas’ tone.  “How?”

It felt foolish, but there was little else; Cas kept tapping Dean’s face over from where it was insistent on leaning.  “Stay awake, Dean,” he ordered, whilst raising open one of the hunter’s eyelids.

“C’mon!” Dean protested, turning his head, voice a little louder this time, “Tryin’ to get…hours...” His eyes were barely open, staring into a blankness.

“Hey, jerk,” Sam called, snapping his fingers right by Dean’s ear.  Groggily Dean squinted at Sam, Castiel’s healing hand supporting his head.

“Sam…” Dean paused to yawn.   “… not a nerdy dog… anymore.”

Slipping again.

“You bet, man.  I’m back to normal, just like you’re gonna be in about…” Sam glanced up at Cas, but the angel donned a look of uncertainty.  “Well, who cares, but _nonono_ , Dean!”  Sam snapped his fingers again, since it looked like it’d worked to lure Dean out of it.  “We’ll have pie!”

“And your car,” Castiel aimlessly threw in.

Sam tossed him a ‘ _really, that was pretty weak’_ look, only able to think of Dean.  It went right over Castiel’s head and Sam dropped it instantly, knowing the guy had to be trying.

“Yeah, your car too.  It’s still sitting in that nice neighborhood – well, maybe.  I mean, why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Someone may have stolen it,” Castiel tried to assist.

Sam’s eyes widened in Cas’ direction, but the angel already had Dean’s hand wrapped around his tie.  His face was pulled closer to Dean’s, who still wore that half-lidded and not entirely grounded expression. Cas looked lost.

“…you cannot let… anyone… steal…she’s my…my baby..” Dean urgently pronounced, slowly but surely.  Sam would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the worry that shone in Cas as he stared back at Dean.  Sam swore if Cas blinked, it’d probably be raining down on his brother’s face.

“No one will steal your car then,” Castiel managed to reply, the words sounding like reassurance as well as promise.

“Good,” Dean was satisfied, so his eyelids began to slide shut again.

"No.  Stay, Dean.” Castiel made Dean keep a hold on his tie.  He kept his hand on Dean’s face, both hunting and healing Dean piece by piece.  “Focus on me and don’t shut your eyes.”  Castiel could see Dean much better through them.

“Why…? Stupid…stone-wallin’ me.. with yours…”

“Tell me what that means, Dean.” Castiel urged.

“Your eyes… they’re a huge damn… pretty… wall…”

Sam now _did_ have to hold back a laugh, even though he was leaking tears he hadn’t been able to hold back.  Dean didn’t ever use the word ‘pretty,’ not seriously, anyway.  _Maybe in his head he did._

“…woah, Cas… those… your wings?”

“You can see them?” Cas asked, eyes widening in alarm.

“Pretty damn huge… not to,” Dean released Cas’ tie to lift his arm upward, eyes unfocused, reaching for the wings he could seemingly now _see_.

“Your wings are out?” Sam asked incredulously.

“They always are… for the most part.  I keep them folded against me, but now they’re… well, to protect Dean.”

“I thought you told me Dean didn’t have any extra angel senses.”

“He doesn’t.  I… believed he didn’t.”  But there was something about this Castiel was unnerved about.  He remembered thinking of it before, how incredibly rare that humans were able to sense them, let alone _see and touch_ the wings of an angel.  Mainly… it was _seeing_ them in this world.  They were, essentially, an extension of his grace, and to see the full expanse of his wings... that was only something heard of in heaven.  With the dead and the dying.

“Wait,” Cas demanded, gripping Dean’s wrist before he reached the one closest to his fingers – they had protectively curled themselves around Dean without thought. 

Castiel remembered the last time they made contact, and he wasn’t sure if he should allow it when Dean was already in a precarious state of health. That the sight of them suggested his _waning_ health naturally had him cautious, even when it was known Dean had a special sense for them before this dire moment.

“What do they look like?” Castiel implored of a fading Dean. 

Sam stared at the spots he assumed might hold Cas’ wings, but he didn’t see a thing.  He felt it’d be too weird to lean over and wave a hand around, so instead he closely watched Dean – well, like he hadn’t been already.

“…black… feathery… kinda beat up.  I dunno…see-through...” Dean seemed to be straining himself to keep awake, as if Cas’ wings had him mesmerized.

Castiel, with a clouded reluctance, he finally let Dean’s wrist free to roam, if only to keep him this desperate to keep awake.  He watched as Dean’s fingers moved toward the stray feathers, and upon contact he curiously did not feel the human warmth, but rather a close awareness of home. 

“Heaven…” Dean muttered, “…They want me to… to…”

“They?  They who?” Sam swiftly demanded, lost because he’d been watching Dean grasping at absolutely nothing – he looked nuts, honestly – but it was obvious from both of their faces that wings were actually _there_ , and now there was something about _heaven_?

“Dean, your place is here and you will _not_ be leaving, Sam is here.  _I_ am here.”

Dean’s arm dropped, and Castiel lost the faint skyward pull.  Lost Dean’s attention, as the hunter’s eyes fluttered closed again.

“Damn it, Dean!” Castiel shouted, startling both himself and Sam, who was long past the point of being comforted by Cas’ reassurance Dean would be fine.  “Die and I will scour the heavens and bring you back anyway!”

Castiel could feel it churning inside of him – a resonating, desolate sensation that made his entire existence ache.  Dean’s soul was slipping through his fingers like trickling water.  Warm tears spilled, he couldn’t breathe.  _Powerless.  Useless.  Dean was dying.  What was happening?_

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” he faintly heard, as if from far away, and Castiel knew it was Sam.  “Why isn’t it working?  Cas?”  The angel could feel the distress in the younger Winchester.

Castiel lifted and held Dean against him, arms wrapping around the hunter – he could still feel his heart feebly beating.  Dean’s ashen face lolled against Castiel’s shoulder.  _Come back, Dean._

* * *

_Again with this damn wasteland of fog,_ Dean thought in annoyance, finding himself lost in a very familiar setting, the dense fog incasing and cold against the hairs at the back of his neck.

This time he had no knife, and there was an eerie silence that didn’t sit well with him.  It wasn’t the same as the last time he’d been here.

“Cas?” Dean called out, recalling the last time he’d heard the angel’s voice call from the darkness – _at least that had given something for him to frickin’ follow_.

But Dean didn’t hear a sound other than his own voice echoing around him.

“Perfect,” he grumbled.

Not having much in the way of choice, he decided he may as well start moving. As he did, he kept alert to his cloudy surroundings, eyes squinting to search the darkness for anything threatening he might have to shake off.

He had to have gone a goddamned mile or two in the disquieting haze before he finally thought he heard… something.  _Was that_ _crying?_

“Hello?” he called out.

“ _Can you please tell me what’s going on?  Why isn’t it working?”_ Dean heard – a soft voice in the distance.  Dean turned around, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

“Hey!” Dean shouted at no one.  “Tell me where you are!”

As soon as his words circled around the endless void of _nothing_ , a blinding light erupted around him, startling him into throwing himself down, eyes squeezed shut, his arms instinctively covering his head. 

_What the hell?!_

Thunderous sizzling and crackling shot off around him, sounding like a series of gunshots ringing in his ears.  Grimacing, he covered his ears with both hands, wondering when it would be safe enough to steal a look into the light.

_To hell with it._

Gingerly he opened his eyes, and though the fog had dissolved into an intense white glow, he was able to stare into it without his eyes burning clean out of his head.  _Which… reminded him of someone._

“Cas?  Is that you?” he questioned cautiously, slowly bringing himself to his feet.  He felt an… unearthly electricity in the air, rustling around and inside of him, snaking its way through his veins until he was forced to shudder.

“Dean.”  Directly behind him.

Dean felt like he’d jumped out of his skin.  _Jesus,_ it happened _everywhere._

He whipped around, suddenly face-to-face with Cas, barely a foot between them.  The state of the angel before him made him blink, momentarily staggered.

“What—“ Dean began, bleakly aware of the raw tint around Cas’ eyes, just like someone who’d been… crying.  The angel’s usual steel eyes had watered down to a clear, profound blue.  Huge, messy-feathered black wings were partially folded at his sides, making it look like the angel was shrinking into himself.

“Come back,” Cas voiced.

For seconds Dean didn’t know how to speak, the sight of Cas looking so ruined and lost short-circuiting his ability to function.

Finally, “I’ve been trying.

"No,” Cas countered, tone rigid.  “You’re letting go.”

Dean was instantly confused.  _The hell he wasn’t.  He’d been wandering around for ages trying to find a way out._

“What the hell does that mean?  I’ve been trying to get back for what feels like a goddamn lifetime, Cas!”

Without warning, he was being crushed between Cas’ arms, a strangling embrace. “Woah—hey,” Dean gasped.

Cas began to glow, the light swelling around the both of them.  Dean saw Cas’ wings stretch outward, defensively curling themselves around him, yet seeming careful to not brush against him in any way.  The thundering that was once booming around him now found its way inside of him, leaving him breathless.  He had no idea what the hell was happening, but it felt a lot like he his insides were being shocked by some intensely distant and not-so-human energy.

“C-Cas…” he rasped.  “Let me—“

“You _will_ take your soul.  You will not ignore what I fixed for you, Dean Winchester,” Cas spoke into his ear, voice low.  The angel tenderly nestled the side of his face into Dean’s, and Dean could feel the wet warmth of what he somehow knew were tears.

A strong jolt fired through him, shocking his trembling heart to life. 

 

* * *

Dean came to with a violent start, eyes snapping open, inhaling a deep breath of air.  A shade of dimness overwhelmed his vision, throwing him off after having just been immersed in that realm of light.  For seconds he stayed this way, gulping and gasping for air as if he hadn’t taken a breath for days.

“Dean!” came the voice he’d heard in the fog, and when he blinked he saw Sam hovering over him, relief plastered all over that puppy-dog face.

“Hey… where the hell are we?” Dean questioned as he sat up a bit too quickly, oblivious to exactly where he was and who he happened to be lying on.

His head collided with something solid on the way up, which had him twisting around to see Cas with his hand over his nose, eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

“Shit, sorry Cas,” Dean apologized.  _Way to go.  Wake up from that nightmare that the distraught angel had pulled him out of, only to slam his head into his face.  Smooth move._ “You okay?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas recovered quickly and continued to stare at Dean as if an entire universe of wonder was splayed out before him, finally found after a millennia of searching.  Dean couldn’t help but feel a little tense.

“Jesus, man, you scared the crap out of us,” Sam broke the tension, lurching a startled Dean into a hug.  “You looked _dead_.  Your blood’s all over the place.”

Dean chuckled self-consciously, not able to remember much of anything.  Last thing -- other than wandering around in that fucking irritating fog – was pulling a shelf onto the psycho-bitch and kicking himself through a door.

“I feel super,” Dean attempted to humor.  “Never better.”  This part was actually true, despite all the times his head and body had been swung at, dropped on floors, and torn apart by fangs.  _Huh… hold up._

“Yeah, right,” Sam muttered disbelievingly, but Dean could hear the smile in his voice.  He could hear the tears that had been there, too, which made him ache for something different to have happened, something that didn’t hurt Sammy.

Once Sam let him go, Dean checked himself out, one of his hands lifting to rub at the side of his neck, then at the back of his head.  _Nothing._

_Shit, he had to thank Cas.  He couldn’t just blow this one off with a joke.  Cas had been_ crying _– there was nothing funny about that.  Sam had been crying; he saw no funny in that either.  He had almost bit the fucking dust and left his little brother alone and left his… his stupid angel behind…_

“Cas, man,” Dean began quietly, feeling every muscle in his body on edge.  He wasn’t good with this serious stuff.  He sucked at it.  But this was gonna happen whether he could do it or not. 

Dean turned to Cas again, taking in the familiarity of their positioning.  His back faced where Cas was sitting and he’d just leaned up – so his head had to have been resting there.  _Just like the first time Cas had ever been… so close._

Cas was looking at him even before he’d said his name.  Dean swore it seemed like the angel was using all the powers that be to not grab him and hold him together.  _Why was it suddenly so easy to read the guy?_   Dean swallowed. 

“Thanks… you know, for saving me from the brink of death.”

Cas, to Dean’s surprise and probably to Sam’s if he was even still standing here during this sappy moment, smiled weakly – his one-sided, hardly noticeable upturn kind of smile.  “Not bad for your… _stupid angel_?” he questioned with a tilt of his head.

Dean’s mouth opened wordlessly.  _Last_ thing he expected to come out of Cas, and what did that mean – _he knew all along how he referred to him in his head?_

A snort of laughter came from across the room and Dean glimpsed back at Sam only to exchange equally ‘ _wanna say something, I dare you’_ looks.

_You know what, Sammy could suck it when it came to their sappy moments._

“The only angel I trust using his mojo while inside of me,” Dean replied, looking back to Cas with a wink and a smirk. 

Cas’ eyebrows narrowed.  “I’m glad that you do.  I’ve enjoy visiting you there.”

“Oh _, gross_ ,” Sam groaned.  “I can’t-- I’m going to go… look around.”

They both watched as Sam practically leapt out the front door, before their attention returned to each other.  After breaking that wall of ice, Dean felt a lot more at ease, daring enough to fall back and try out the comfort of Cas’ lap.

“Not bad.” Dean commented casually, “Kind of girly, but I get it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Cas replied, a hand moving to push fingers through Dean’s hair.  Spots of dried blood fell onto the couch cushions.  “You’re covered in blood,” he stated.

“So are you.”

“It’s yours.”

“So the thing’s dead, huh?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean began to wonder about the details – all that went on after he’d burst through that basement door, but hell, seemed that could wait until later.  It felt nice, for once, to _relax_.  _And how in the hell had_ this _gotten so easy all of a sudden?  Here was the angel that had saved him more than once.  Who had dared to throw himself into his space bubble.  Cas—a frickin’ heavenly being now covered in blood and tears and a past of having gone through hell to ensure Dean lived, and boy did that mean a lot of different things now_ —

“Do I really deserve this?” Dean unthinkingly blurted.  “You doing all this just for me.”  He could feel himself blushing like an idiot.

Cas was quiet for a few moments.  “You deserve happiness, Dean.”

“But _me_?  Tons of people-” A hand clamped down on his mouth and Dean stared up at Cas in bewilderment.  The angel leant over, face close.

“Try to understand that I love you,” he insisted.  “Sometimes I wonder if you have no idea of what any of _this_ is _._ ”

“Wha—“ _Wait_ —that sounded familiar. 

 _Oh… yeah._   _He remembered._   Before he’d kissed Cas the first time, he’d let that piece of work fly out of his mouth.

“It’s like you memorize every word I say,” Dean grumbled as he tugged Cas’ hand off of his mouth. 

“I do.”

“Well that’s not in any way weird.”  Dean said, beginning to nervously wonder if they should be checking on Sam or something. 

Idly he realized he was still holding onto Cas’ hand, which made him finally go for eye contact, his tongue unconsciously wetting his lips as his gaze first settled on Cas’ mouth— _no, of course not on purpose_. Dean swallowed uneasily when their eyes finally met.  Seriously, the guy had to stop staring at him like that. 

“Your hand is… warm,” Cas randomly observed.

“Yeah… so is yours,” Dean said, a second later wanting to punch himself.  _He’d never get used to this whole affection thing, would he?  No… no… he was goddamn_ Dean Winchester _, and Cas had just torn him back into the waking world._ “I’ve gotta tell you something, Cas.”

He got an inquiring look in return.  “C’mere, though,” Dean prompted.

“Where, Dean?  I’m already here,” was Cas’ puzzled reply.

 _You can do it, goddamn it, you have before,_ Dean inwardly egged himself on before he lifted an arm and slid his hand behind Cas’ neck.  The angel leaned forward right away, lead easily by his touch; Dean could feel his body lightly shift as he leaned up the rest of the way, turning himself a piece to keep the angle from getting too uncomfortable. 

Dean didn’t jump right in, though _.  Almost._ They were a breath away.  He could feel the brush of Cas’ nose and the ghost of his lips, and surprisingly Cas was the one to shakily inhale, his still-light eyes staring into Dean’s searchingly.

“Your wings were sorta… awesome-looking,” Dean said, still able to see them clearly in his head, even after Cas had brought him back from that place.  _Nah,_ he absolutely wasn’t up to anything in the slightest.

Dean sensed Cas timorously swallowing, could feel his warm exhale against his lips.  His own heart was beating fast in his chest. 

“You… you weren’t _supposed_ to see them, Dean,” Cas said, sounding ruffled and like he’d been trying for stern.

“Guess I’ve broken an angel rule, then.”

And suddenly the waiting stopped.  Cas’ head tilted ever-so-cautiously before he pressed his lips against Dean’s.  The kiss was so soft—so fleeting – that Dean’s mind barely got it registered.  “Not surprising since you’ve already caused an angel to do the same,” Cas said with that hint of mischief.  _Mischief._ Dean felt so wound-up from the suspense of it all that he nearly groaned in protest.

 _Actually—too late._   He did groan a little, trying not to give in by smashing his lips into Cas’ again, just _knowing_ Cas was playing with him.  _Knowing_ it was because he’d tried to sneakily convince Cas to give in first.

 _Well fuck me_ , Dean inwardly grumbled, which only made it worse, him now having to battle a whole new round of imagery involving him and begging and Cas and forgetting about clothes and _fuckfuckfuck do not go there, Dean_.  In a mental panic, he attempted to smoothly roll over and off of the couch.

As the absence of Cas sank in, he worried about how intensely he missed the closeness.  “That was  _really_ close to being evil, Cas,” he muttered.

“I believe the usage is ‘ _getting back_ ’ at a person?” Cas countered as he lifted himself in shadow of Dean. 

“Where’d you learn that one?” Dean began stretching a slight soreness from his limbs, arms over his head.

Cas squinted at at him as if it were obvious.  “Observing you and Sam.”

“Of course.” Dean’s words sounded like surrender.  “Well I guess we should get outta this place.  We can finally leave this damn town.” 

He glanced at Cas to see he was smiling that faint smile of his.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, feeling like a smile meant something more when on Cas.

“It’s only… good to see all that is… your essence again,” Cas said, eyes flitting downward like he was the shyest damn thing that existed despite having just tormented Dean with that frickin’ kiss.

And even though he wanted to say _don’t you start with the chick-flick moments_ , he bit back and decided on going with it.  “Which you’re gonna miss out on if you chicken out like that,” Dean teased, patting Cas’ shoulder.  “Come on.”

Dean started his way out, brushing a hand through his still-matted hair as he paused outside the front door.  He saw Sam kneeling down by a pile of rocks, probably being a big nerd again.  “Something special about those?” he called out.

“I guess, if saving your life is something special,” Sam shot back.  “Where’s Cas?”

“Right behind me.” He started to motion, but Cas wasn’t there. 

He was still in the cabin, standing motionless while he stared to the side, a sad look now on his face.

 _Not even a beat._   Dean walked back in, shooting a glance toward what the big change was about. 

“So I lost pretty much _everything_?” Dean asked, feeling a little queasy staring at the humongous puddle of blood spread out on the cabin’s kitchen floor.

“You were bleeding from three deep wounds, two from your neck and wrists.  The other from your leg.” Cas wouldn’t stop staring at it and all Dean could do was watch him.  “I watched as your soul bled out, leaving you with an ease that left nothing but grey in its wake.”

 _Jesus, he was really going to have to be careful with these depressingly somber things Cas thought of – it made him want to curl up with the guy until all the pain was forgotten._ “So… you put it back in me?”

“I drew in what I could and remade what was lost,” Cas continued seriously, finally looking at Dean.  “It’s still you.  I remembered it… so that you would remain entirely the same.  But I had to… improvise, since you would not easily stay.”

“Improvise how?” He suffered a small quiver – something about an improvisation on his soul being _maybe a tad_ intimidating.

“I entwined some of my grace with your soul in order to… take care you wouldn’t slip away from me.”  Cas avoided looking at Dean again.  “From, uh… Sam as well.”

Dean stared at him incredulously in response, not even sure he heard right.  “You’re telling me I have some of _your_ mojo _literally_ inside of me?”

“Yes, but… you shouldn’t notice any change.”

“Will _you_ notice?”

“I feel it missing, but I also sense it in you and I don’t mind.”

“Cas, you’re—you—“  Dean didn’t really know what he was going to say, so he ended up standing there like an idiot, experiencing his disbelief.  “I mean, you tore a part of your _own_ _self_ out and gave it to me?”

“I trust you with it, Dean.” 

And like that, Cas finally budged, this time leaving a mind-blown Dean inside. 

It was maybe twenty seconds later that a rush washed over him like an overpowering wave of _what-the-hell-ever_ that he was sure wouldn’t stop until it had run its course.  _Fucking Cas. His angel._ His _angel._

Dean was sprinting out of the cabin, straight toward the back of the very same dark-haired, trench-coat-wearing angel.  He flung his arms around him from behind, managing to lift him from the ground. 

Which seemed to startle the hell of out Cas, because suddenly there was a sharp sound of rustling, Dean’s face getting attacked by a very familiar burst of wispy, hardly-there feathering – just like a set of spirits swung their way through him. 

“What are you doing, Dean?!” Cas exclaimed, Dean able to picture the wide-eyed, fearful expression down to a tee.  But Cas let Dean continue to hold him like this, his hands clutching onto Dean’s arms, his legs lifted slightly, dangling like he didn’t know what to do with the forced lack of gravity.

“Thanking you, you perfect son of a bitch!” he enthusiastically replied.  _Sure, he was running on a few loose screws, so what_.  “Also...” Dean continued, finally dropping Cas’ feet back down to the solidarity of their world.  He had his arms wrapped snugly around Cas’ waist, holding him close.

He was overcome by an unrelenting mob of nerves, intensified by the fact he was trying to ignore the unfair _too-ungodly-good_ sensation he got from settling himself between Cas’ veiled wings. He sensed the mist-like feathers brushing against him… sending thin, chilly bolts of energy through his blood, making him want to quiver as he’d done before.  But having the balls enough to do this _was_ going to goddamn happen before it fled itself across the country. 

“I thought you might wanna hear me say it…”

Cas tried to look back at him, but Dean beat him by pressing the side of his face into the angel’s hair, voice low and quiet in his ear. 

“Love you back, Castiel.”

 

* * *

 


	13. Peachy Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise. I was not planning to add anymore to this story, my last chapter being the 'official' finish… however, I've received many messages and feedback concerning a want for more, specifically some *winkwinknudgenudge* material. Some also seemed unsure if that was actually the end or not. So, to remedy both of these things and because I did rather like this story, I wrote another chapter, but moreso what I consider an epilogue than anything else. Be warned. This IS the end, and because you've all been so wonderful as readers and critics, I hope you enjoy this. It's a bit different in content and rating, but all the same… do let me know of your final feelings. (And if you hate it and loved the original, pretend this isn't here, heh.) :]

* * *

 

“Here.”

Sam held out his hand, to which Dean automatically held out his own.  A room key landed in his open palm, which would’ve been all guns and roses, but he noticed another key between Sam’s fingers as he picked his bag off of the Impala. 

“What’s this?” Dean asks suspiciously, looking down at his single room key. 

“What do you think it is?” Sam quipped in response, rolling his eyes.  “I’m not going to risk anything happening again.”

“Excuse me?  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t make me say it.  You know what I’m talking about, Dean.”  Sam shot a meaningful glance over at Cas, who was standing by a streetlamp, absentmindedly holding onto a leashed Jessica. 

“Dude, _nothin’s_ gonna happen with us,” Dean countered, feeling his face burst into flames in the dark.  He hoped to hell Sammy didn’t notice, but he’d chosen to quickly study the ground anyway.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Sam replied without confidence, “But we’ll sleep in different rooms for tonight, just in case.” 

“After what happened, you want to sleep in separate rooms?”

“Yeah?” Sam lifted his eyebrows, Dean able to hear the ‘ _so what_?’

“Well—“ Dean didn’t know what to say anymore.  Sure, there was a large part of him that felt better having Sammy close enough in the case trouble ran across them – the same part of him that _had_ to share a room simply to know Sammy was safe.  But then they were goddamn adults, weren’t they?  It’s not like they hadn’t slept alone before, but Jesus, couldn’t his brother be a little – _what, less supportive?  You know that’s not what you damn well want.  But hell… Cas—_ with _Cas—his head still couldn’t grasp their version of recent events properly._

When Sam saw Dean struggling to come up with anything, he shrugged his bag further up onto his shoulder.  “Exactly, I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

“Sam—c’mon.  I’m not spending the night with some girl I picked up at a bar,” he started with a scared sort of chuckle, grasping at straws to avoid the possible ideas he’d pick up the moment he stepped into an empty motel room with Cas.  Or as soon as Sam was out of sight. 

His brother was already halfway to his own room, but he’d heard Dean and turned his head to toss Dean an exasperated look.  “You’re right, it’s Cas!” he called back.

More heat graced his skin, making him feel like he was suddenly wearing too many layers even in the chill hours of the night.  He wrapped the key in his fist and grumbled to himself as he grabbed his own bag. 

_Wait._

“Hey, no, _you’re_ taking it!” Dean called at Sam just as he saw him putting his key in the door.  As he walked toward his own room, he pointed toward the dog Cas still had by the leash.  “You wanted it, it’s your responsibility!” 

“Fine!” Sam called back.  There were at least six doors between them, but the two of them were too tired to care about yelling across the row of them.  “And it’s not an ‘it,’ she’s a _person_ , Dean.”

Cas was apparently more aware than Dean assumed, because a blink later he was on Sam’s end, handing over the dog.  “Goodnight, Sam,” Dean heard Cas’ rough voice before he appeared right beside Dean again, always unnaturally close. 

“Too lazy to walk that?” Dean asked as he focused with all of his might on unlocking his brotherless room. 

Cas didn’t answer, just watched him with the air of having just attended one of Dean’s comments that there was no need to respond to.  

“You coming in with me or something?” Dean questioned as he made his way in, flicking on the light to reveal the usual.  Bed, television, small table and chair, and a sink counter over in the corner.  Dean couldn’t help but see there was only one queen, but then Cas didn’t sleep, did he?  So what the hell did it matter?

“I thought I would watch over you,” Cas replied, on repeat when it came to that.

“Seriously—“ Dean started, but was quickly interrupted.

“I’m going to whether or not you say so.”

“Sam probably needs more watching over now that I’m not there.”

“Sam will be fine.  I will be able to sense things from a ways.”

“Then why not go _a ways_ while I get some shut-eye?”  Dean dropped his bag on the table and stupidly wondered if he could bear changing into boxers to sleep in, or if he’d have to go all-out with the clothes on his back with the other in the room.

Tentatively he stepped back and grabbed a pair of boxers from the bag.  He might as well.  Just not in front of the guy.  Which he knew was fucking ridiculous – Cas had probably seen it tons of times, especially being constantly around him and Sam, but now it felt different.  He felt exposed.  Not in a threatening kind of way, but like he couldn’t trust _himself._   He could inexplicably lose his cool in seconds while in Cas’ presence, and Cas didn’t even have to _try_. 

Whatever.  He’d just tell himself he needed to change in privacy, and so he was no later closing himself in the bathroom to strip down.

He had managed to cool his nerves by the time he left by telling himself he was overreacting, that this was no different than Cas staying in their room any other night, but as he stepped back into the room and toward the bed, he saw Cas sitting on its end missing half of his own getup.  Dean’s mind instantly flashed to the time Cas had half-stripped and climbed into bed with him, which caused him to swallow nervously, the flurry of unease shrieking its way round his insides.

“What are you doin’, Cas?” Dean tried to ask casually as he stepped his way over, suddenly all too aware of how naked he was with nothing but his boxer shorts on, lightly freckled and very bare chest revealed to the world.  To _Cas_.

“I thought I’d sleep beside you again?”

Cas watched Dean as he made his way around the bed.  He seemed to attentively take in his appearance before glancing down at himself.  Thoughtfully he observed himself, and then he began unbuttoning his remaining dress shirt. 

“Hey—wait.  I didn’t even give you an answer!” Dean didn’t mean to let slip so much panic in his tone when he saw Cas starting to remove more of his clothing.  _Was he mimicking Dean’s chosen level of clothing?  Good thinking, Dean._

“I can sense you’re frightened, so I’ll help you,” Cas said.

“Wha—I’m not _afraid_ of anything.”

Cas unbuttoned with a trouble-free swiftness before he shrugged the shirt off.  Then he stood, beginning to unzip his pants without a word.

 _Alright.  Can’t do this._ Dean fought back another heavy swallow and turned off the light, trying not to look as he slipped into what he’d take as his side of the bed. 

After some shuffling and a shift in the bed, he felt Cas slip in beside him, arm curling around his middle with no hesitation whatsoever.  Dean could feel Cas’ warm chest press into his back and he squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing why he couldn’t seem to handle their second round of cuddling.  The proximity of the angel seemed to make his every nerve ending go rigid.

“You’re very still,” Cas spoke, warm voice brushing against the back of his neck, giving him goose bumps.  “You can relax, Dean.”

“Y-yeah,” Dean murmured hoarsely.  He was reminded of earlier, when he’d said—he’d admitted—

Dean’s eyes opened to the darkness of the motel room, his heart picking up in beat to hammer in chest.  _Oh god, this was all so damn_ intimate _._   He could barely handle it, but as much as his head felt on the verge of imploding, he couldn’t help but notice it was in a… _pleasant_ way, like he hadn’t felt something so terrifyingly good in all of his life.  _Then so what if he died from it?_

_Hell, better than what he’d almost died of before._

Dean felt Cas burying his face into the crook of his neck, swore he could feel the other’s lips curve into a smile.

Dean dared to maneuver himself beneath Cas’ arm, rolling so that he was on his back and Cas’ arm was now draped over his stomach. 

“You doin’ this on purpose?”

Cas didn’t respond just as he hadn’t when he followed Dean into the motel room.  He chose to merely stare at Dean, his head no longer hiding in the crook of his neck.

Dean was watching for some kind of answer, but when he didn’t get one and instead got the vibe that Cas really _was_ doing this to torment him in his own secretive little way, he sighed.  _There was no way to stop it from happening, was there?_

He stretched his arm up and around, his hand falling on Cas’ neck to bury fingers in his dark hair.  “C’mere, then,” he ushered quietly, using the touch to pull Cas toward him.  Their lips met, Cas’ body seeming to melt into Dean’s touch, everything unnervingly silent until Dean felt Cas release a soft breath, hot against his lips.  Dean could feel Cas’ leg hooking itself around both his own, could feel him using this to nestle more snugly into Dean’s front.  Dean leaned in to deepen the kiss, tongue already grazing Cas’ lips, easing the other into opening for a taste of him. 

It was a tiny shift in body that threw him into sudden, stark awareness of the hardness pressing into his thigh.  Cas was rocking himself into the hunter with seemingly no notice or thought to what he was doing.  But whatever the case was, it was driving Dean nuts.  He could feel enlivened warmth rushing down to his own stiffening erection... eliciting familiar uneasiness inside of him.  _But hell, now wasn’t the time to be embarrassed.  They’d done this before… get a fucking grip, Dean!_

With a bit of shimmying amongst a fervent, breathy kiss, he gripped Cas’ sides and directed them both, Dean leaning back into the motel bed, the angel now on top, straddling Dean’s hips between both legs.  He could feel Cas’ warm chest pressing into his, his hands resting flat on Dean’s shoulders while he clung to their kiss.

Dean let his free hand hook around the back of one of Cas’ thighs, trying to lead him into scooting, shamelessly striving for the friction he was craving.  Cas was easily led by Dean’s touch, his hips wriggling downward so that they aligned with Dean, his erection pressing excitedly against Dean’s own.  Dean groaned softly into their kiss, both his hands moving to grip the sides of Cas’ waist. 

He was actually surprised by the litheness of the other, Cas able to curl himself so rolling their cocks together and maintaining the kiss seemed to be of no issue.  Only thing was that he was getting loud, Cas’ moaning at least two steps above Dean’s own and very _singular_ one.  Cas let out noises of content nearly every time his hips ground forward, and Dean worried that the angel might be close to coming already.  _Not that he could say much was different for himself._

“Cas…” he breathed, breaking from the kiss to find eyes of a very dark blue staring back at him.  _God,_ the thoughts running through his head – they were racing far ahead of their current position and Dean could’ve whimpered in anticipation if it weren’t for his lingering self-control.

Cas merely tilted his head, breathing labored, seeming unsure as to why Dean stopped.  But Dean was pushing Cas back now, palms planted on the other’s chest.  He pushed until Cas’ back was pressed into the bed, his head lying close to its end.  He stared up at Dean with wide, questioning eyes. 

Dean couldn’t stop the nervy swarm from taking over, causing a lightheadedness as he eyed the too-naïve angel.  He was about to do something he had no fucking clue how to do – but he would, for Cas, and hoped to hell he didn’t make a fool of himself.

“Gonna…” he started, but for _gods sake_ , he was too damn _shy_ to get it out in the open, what with Cas staring up at him so expectantly, the man’s tongue coming out to unconsciously wet his bottom lip.  Dean could barely contain himself.  “You’ll see,” Dean finished, a rough undertone in his voice. 

His fingers hooked into the edges of Cas’ boxers – a loosely-fitting, plain white pair – and tugged downward, pulling them over Cas’ hardness and the entire rest of the way down, so nothing would be in the way.  He tossed them off the side of the bed and tried not to freak out when he turned his eyes back to Cas, now entirely nude before him.  Cas had shakily inhaled when his boxers dragged over his sensitive erection, but now he was yet again watching Dean with avid attention.   

Dean could safely say he felt this moment was the pillar of all anxiety.  To even consider – well, _fuck,_ this wasn’t just a _guy_ and he knew that.  This was _Cas,_ who just so happened to grab a human bearing dude bits, and who gave a crap if he suddenly was fine with the idea of going down on another dude?  It had to be a little like servicing himself, didn’t it?  He just had to… had to think of what he did to himself, and what -- well, what the women he’d been with had done to him.  Sure, a little friggin’ weird, but he had to pull leads from somewhere, since he knew for sure he wanted to do this for Cas.  And sure, maybe a little for himself, if only to see the look on his face… and not to leave out the godawesome sounds Cas would make.

Dean visibly swallowed before he used his hands to part Cas’ legs just enough so he could slide between them and tentatively lean down.  _Fuck fuck fuck, he was going to do this, wasn’t he?  And why did Cas have to stare at him so intently?_

For whatever reason he was unnecessarily gentle to start, his fingers barely brushing against Cas’ cock as he wrapped untested fingers around the base of him.  Cas had been following Dean’s hand with his eyes before the contact was made, and when it was, “Dean…” Cas gasped low and small in his throat. 

_Holy shit—already worth it._

Dean dragged the tips of his fingers up, from the base and over the tip, which seemed to arouse something of a shiver from Cas, his cock hardening further beneath Dean’s fingers. 

“Dean… I…” Cas exhaled, his eyes staring into Dean’s with a blown-away look Dean now knew he’d _never_ tire of.  Summoning the rest of his confidence, Dean suddenly closed the remaining space, tongue touching Cas before his mouth followed suit. 

This interrupted any utterances Cas might’ve had planned, his exhale morphing into a moan thick with surprise and pleasure.  Dean watched as Cas’ fingers curled into the blanket beneath them, his head tilting back a tic.

Dean had no idea what to expect, but even so he found he didn’t mind.  The taste, the smell, the texture and size--- all of it -- all of it belonged to Cas, which made it strangely alluring in the ‘ _well look who doesn’t mind sucking dick’_ sort of way.  The only thing better was the noise Cas made upon feeling Dean’s mouth around him. 

Dean went with what came to him, his tongue swirling around Cas as he took more of him in.  His hand went where his mouth didn’t, sliding down in an improvised rhythm.  Eventually he ventured sucking, saliva slickening Cas’ cock so that the quickening of his dipping head came with more ease.  He could taste something salty and realized he was tasting the other’s pre-cum.  _Tasting._   _Hell,_ it turned him on more than he felt it should – but _fuck_ if that was nothing compared to the throaty moans escaping Cas.

_Jesus fuck, Cas… if you don’t stop…_

Dean could feel himself twitching behind his boxers, eager for some release himself.  And yet he didn’t _really_ want it, not when he was busy making Cas squirm and arch eager hips to further slide into Dean’s mouth.  Dean couldn’t help but idly wonder how much control it took Cas to not—well, _destroy_ him.

But he didn’t want him to finish.  Call it messed up to deny the guy a finish, but _no, not yet_.  He wanted… well, if _Cas_ wanted…

With a faint twinge of guilt, he lifted his mouth away from Cas, causing the angel to open his eyes and peer at him with the confusion of an abandoned fervor.

“Do you want to…” Dean began, but had no goddamn clue how to even blurt it out.  It felt absurd, imagining the words alone leaving _him_.  _How the hell did people who were doing this for the first time_ do _this?_  “Have…uh…” Dean had lifted himself so he was sitting on his knees between Cas’ legs.  One of his hands came up to nervously rub the back of his neck.

_Oh come on, you basically sucked Cas off just now—this should be child’s play…_

“You wish to have sexual intercourse?” he suddenly heard, Dean’s faintly pink-stained face lifting to see Cas had lifted himself to rest on elbows. 

“That was… a weird way to break the ice,” Dean responded, to some extent stunned by the first intelligible words to leave Cas for a while.  _So he knew where this could lead, huh?_   He should’ve known it – the guy had been around observing this world for who-knew-how-long.  He had to understand the acts beyond blowjobs.

“What do you prefer?” Cas questioned, head tilting. 

Dean would’ve laughed at how bizarre it was Cas had returned to his predictable self in the span of seconds, but the angel still had flushed cheeks and was licking his lips a lot more anxiously now.

“I dunno.  _Getting laid_ sounds a lot less like we’re taking part in some twisted science experiment,” Dean mumbled awkwardly, “But with you it feels different.”  Dean felt this nearing chick flick territory, but fuck it.  He felt the need to define what they were doing exactly for what it was.  “This is… lovemaking, but we don’t have to _say_ it is, y’know.  We’ll just know it is.”

Dean thought he saw a smile turn up one side of Cas’ lips for a miniscule moment, but it didn’t last long enough to tell.  “I like that you consider this an act of—“ Cas began.

“Hey, don’t be getting mushy on me or anything.  I said we’ll _know_ it, but I’m not gonna--” Dean went quiet, stupidly tried to stop his mouth before it goaded on his nerves even more.  Cas luckily seemed unaffected by his interruption; the guy appeared more amused than offended, like he had his own secret opinions lurking around in his that mind of his. 

“What I’m trying to say is…” Dean tried again, sentence quickly fading yet again.

Cas lifted himself up, now sitting on the bed so he could rest hands on either side of Dean’s face and gently pull him in for a kiss.  It was meant to be calming, but it only intensified the train of Dean’s thoughts.

“Would you mind if I fuck you?” he finally blurt out, once they’d pulled a breadth away from the kiss.   

“I trust you, Dean Winchester,” Cas replied, his stare catching Dean’s on their way up from where they’d been focusing on the blankets in mortification.  Thumbs brushed over Dean’s light stubble before his hands dropped to his sides, waiting.

And it took Dean a second to process.  That was a yes.  Cas had agreed to it without a moment’s hesitation, not even a flinch in the name of Dean’s poor approach to asking.  Even better, Dean realized he still had no fucking idea what he was doing.  _He’d never…_ fucked _a man before, so couldn’t make out if there were specific steps they had to take, but he guessed… well, they’d have to wing it._

And if Cas wasn’t making it a ton easier to imagine, he didn’t know what else could.  The angel was sitting there, butt-naked, cock still rigid from before’s attention, and his eyes – _god his eyes_ – they watched Dean with such intensity.  Clouded, but potent with an unreadable energy.  He licked his slightly chapped lips again, and a moment later Dean had Cas’ face in one hand, his lips attacking the angel’s. 

He led Cas backward again, pinning him against the bed while he positioned himself onto bent knees between Cas’ parted legs.  Sure, he wasn’t going in for a fuck yet -- Cas was too much a distraction for him to keep completely on task.  _The mere taste when kissing him_ … _for example_ , which was exactly what he dove in for.

“Oh,” he mumbled into their lips.  “We’ll probably need some.”

He agilely pulled away from Cas and rolled himself off of the bed and onto his feet.  He was used to the dark in the room by now, so didn’t bother with the light as he went toward his bag and dug around.  _Yeah yeah,_ he was about to reveal what a _typical guy_ he was, but hey, there were on the road and you never knew.  There were several occasions the lube had come in handy in very dire hormonal situations.

Cas had rolled onto his side to watch Dean’s search.  When Dean finally produced a bottle of some kind from the depths of his bag, Cas was wearing his recurring look of lost curiosity.

“Lube,” Dean mumbled with some diffidence, shrugging a little.  He would’ve loved the confidence and lack of strangeness this new… state of affairs brought, but hell, he supposed if him and Cas had made it this far – he’d get used to it in time.

He roamed back over to the bed, setting the bottle on the end table before he decided now was the time to shed his own boxers.  He stepped out of them before climbing back onto the bed.  His heart was hammering in his chest at full force now, barely able to choke out another, “C’mere.”

Cas crawled himself over the bed, something that might’ve been hilarious any other time, but nothing but rousing every anxious nerve in his body now.  Dean had sat himself with his back against the headboard and Cas didn’t seem reluctant to close the space between them – _who was he kidding?  Cas was an expert in it._

He cozied himself in Dean’s lap, his legs resting on either side of Dean’s as his arms wrapped around the man’s freckled shoulders.  Dean had already taken to kissing him again, unable to tire from the feeling of Cas’ lips. 

His hands held onto Cas’ sides, impossible of course to ignore the feel of Cas’ warm cock nudging his stomach.  His own he could feel sliding dangerously close between Cas’ ass – dangerous only because this was by far the furthest he’s ever dared to go and it was killing him how much he felt he could come already.  He felt Cas’ soft moaning against his lips and his head reeled, one hand moving to Cas’ lower back.

His other made the move to grab the bottle from the table, bringing it behind Cas’ back so he could use both hands to squeeze some of the cool liquid onto his fingers. 

Dean would admit he had never pictured himself here – _like_ _this… with Cas_ – _ever_ in the expanse of time he’d known him.  Astoundingly his mind had never taken him here, not to the point of them _having_ sex – the nude, penetrating, _real thing_ sort of deal.  Dean pulled away from the kiss, leaning his head back against the headboard, trying to mentally prep himself.  Physically, too, while he was at it. 

“What is it, Dean?” Cas questioned amongst his oddly acquired habit of nuzzling into Dean’s neck, his scent seeming a comfort to him.

“Have I gone crazy?”  Dean debated, quietly.

“You’re very sound, Dean,” Cas reassured.

“As an angel…” Dean began, lifting his head, “…is this even going to hurt you?”

It was Cas’ turn to pull away, peering back at Dean with a contemplative expression.  His cheeks were tinged a pink shade.  “Perhaps.  I can feel pleasure on a surprisingly… responsive scale, but I have noticed it is only with you.  You don’t have to worry about hurting me, Dean.  I am likely to handle this much better than if I were only human.”

“Speaking of,” Dean thought suddenly, feeling a swirling in his stomach he was sure was the goddamn nerves again, “Who am I… will it really be _you_ I’m doin’ this with?”  ‘ _Or your vessel_?’ was what Dean wanted to say, but he figured Cas would catch on.

“Jimmy Novak’s soul has left this body, in the hands of my brothers and sisters.  I am, essentially, this body now.  If it were different, I’m afraid I would not have allowed myself to get this close to you.”

Though it was a suddenly serious update Cas threw out, Dean was thankful for the flutter of relief.  He wanted Cas – _just_ Cas.

“Okay, well, I was gonna… uh, well… help you get used to the feeling before I do anything,” Dean worked out, mentally punching himself for how inexperienced and tense he sounded.  Cas didn’t seem to mind, though.  He seemed to clutch Dean even tighter, hiding his head against him again.

_Ok… you can do this.  No problem.  Only difference is an ass, no big deal.  All of it felt damn good so far and it was only fair to Cas that he not dive in headfirst…_

The bottle had been dropped onto the bed, his dry hand returning to rest against Cas’ lower back.  The one with lube-coated fingers he curled around to feel between Cas, a slick finger exploring before he felt his entrance. 

“Ok,” he breathed, unsure if he was comforting himself or Cas.  The guy felt taut despite him appearing so calm otherwise.  He leaned to try and get Cas to release him a bit, enough so he could press light kisses into the angel’s neck as he slid one finger inside, slow and gentle, feeling his nerve-softened cock hardening again. It was warm, and tight, and Dean could only think of it wrapped around him.  _Fuck_.

Cas shifted some, a low gasp leaving him.  Dean moved his finger a little before pulling back to let another join on the push back in.  This time he heard a sharper inhale and faintly a ruffling around Cas’ shoulders.  “You good?” Dean quietly asked.

“P-peculiar,” Cas responded, squirming. 

Dean could feel him tighten around his fingers, so he tried to relieve any discomfort with the kisses, which moved along his jaw before catching his lips.  He carefully parted his fingers when he pushed them in further – working in a gradual pumping motion -- figuring this was the best route for getting Cas used to what would come. 

Cas was whining into their kiss, lips parted and eyes squeezed shut.  _Hell,_ Dean _loved_ Cas’ heightened, less restrained sounds.  He could feel his blood pumping eagerly downward, especially when Cas began to move his hips, seeming to be helping himself get used to the sensation.  That or he liked it already.

_Seriously-- was he going to go straight to Hell for this?  Here he was, literally having sex with an angel of the Lord, and Dean was pretty sure that beyond him loving Cas, the intimidating knowledge that he was involved with an angel – an otherworldly being, as he’s ranted to himself many times – was in all truth here… a huge turn-on._

_Nah, he wasn’t going to be telling a single living soul about this._

Dean pulled his fingers free, noticing Cas had built up his own rhythm of rocking against him, his now-slick erection sliding against Dean’s front.  “That good already?” Dean asked with teasing in his voice, trying to play cool while he combatted his own raging arousal.

“Yes,” Cas openly replied amongst soft panting.  “Your touch… it affects my grace.”

“Yeah?  How?” Dean had to bite back a groan over hearing that candid _yes_.

“Lightning.”

“Lightning?” Dean repeated, probing.

“That is the only comparison I can make.  Your touch elicits… shockwaves of energy in my grace, and it feels…” He paused in thought, a corner of Cas’ mouth quirking upward.  Smiling.  “…warm, and pleasant.”

“Huh...” It was Dean’s turn to think, because he knew how familiar that sounded, knew he experienced similar when s _omeone’s_ wings were involved.

_So what did that mean?  They shared some kind of connection, even before the whole life versus death thing had occurred?_

Dean didn’t mention anything and instead snaked both his hands around to grip Cas’ ass.  He wiggled a bit so his cock was skimming along skin between him.  He could feel the entirety of his skin on fire, hot with an almost worrisome yearning.

Working past the warring flurries of nervous tension, he wrapped a hand around himself and slid until he felt the tip pressing against Cas’ entrance, rim still slick with the lube.  He heard a shaky breath release itself and realized it was his own. 

Then, with confidence he had to hunt for, he finally pushed himself inside, tip and much more entering Cas with the sudden aid from the angel’s arching lap.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he growled, unable to hold it back.  It was as tight and as warm as he’d imagined.  Cas’ hands moved to grip Dean’s shoulders, his body leaning itself back to better accommodate their position.  Dean lifted and pushed himself deeper.

Cas’ eyes shut.  Dean felt himself fully inside now, and was gripping onto Cas’ backside to grasp for some sense of control.  He felt so _ready_ _to lose it_.

Cas was the one to move next.  Using his legs, he lifted himself, Dean still halfway inside of him, then lowered himself again, groaning softly at the feeling of Dean sliding fully into him again.  Dean groaned along with him, his legs unthinkingly spreading so that thrusting was simpler.

Cas lifted himself, keeping grounded with the hands he had at Dean’s shoulders, and Dean followed Cas’ lift with an upward thrust before letting himself slide out. Cas took that last moment, before Dean’s cock left him -- to push himself back down, grinding into him.  Every time he did, Dean had to fight to keep a pleasured moan from escaping, relishing how hot and taut Cas was, sending ripples of pleasure through every working inch of him.

If it hurt, Cas didn’t show it.  He let out short, low gasps as they moved together, lips parted and every so often his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

Dean shifted beneath Cas as their pace quickened, and out of nowhere when Dean yet again buried in him, Cas let out a much louder, choked moan.  _Had he – was there…?_

And suddenly Dean felt it – a rush of air that felt cool against his heated skin.  It was the faint rustling sound that he was sure was Cas’ unfolding wings.  As soon as Dean’s mind registered the thought, he felt everything intensify to an almost overwhelming level.  He’d obviously hit a spot within the angel, because Cas left no room for more shifting around on Dean’s part. 

And then came the lightning.  Cas had pulled himself closer to Dean, but for it to work Dean had to lean up closer to Cas as well, his hands sliding up Cas to rest on his upper back.  Instantly he felt those delicate wisps of wings against his hands, and just like the occasion where he’d lost it, clinging to Cas in the forest, he was shocked into that entirely different realm of pleasure.

Oh _fuck,_ he _couldn’t—_

Cas had taken over most of the movement now, hips rolling as his legs lifted him, essentially controlling how fast – how hard Dean was fucking him.  To think then it had merely been Cas’ fingers playing along his waist that had felt like sex.  Now—now that they were _having_ sex, Dean had no fucking word in the entire _universe_ to describe this.  His head was in another place entirely, his body hardly able to contain the _fuckinggodawesome_ feeling that wracked through every inch of him, causing his whole self to visibly shudder.

He knew he should stop, that he should stop touching Cas’ goddamned wings and let everything calm to a more _human_ level, but he couldn’t.  He didn’t _want t_ o.

Dean could hear the loud cries of absolute pleasure, so far gone that they were a part of the storm of what… _carnality?_ … _something more heavenly?_ … itself, all of it wringing together as one.  He felt pulled by something, something in Cas – that _was_ Cas – and the pull deepened the engulfing sensation of fucking Cas, of being _inside_ the angel.

He could feel hands – fingers – digging into his shoulders, burning his skin, but any pain was nowhere near the bliss that he was overcome with. 

_Yes, they were lost._

Dean’s fingers wrapped around Cas’ wrists, pulling them away from his shoulders and with an impassioned strength pitched himself forward, forcing Cas back into the bed, arms trapped above him.  He found himself able to control the movement now, though they by no means slowed.  He readjusted his hold so one hand kept Cas’ wrists caught above him, his free hand now gripping one of Cas’ thighs to spread his legs further apart.  His hips still rocked insistently forward, fucking Cas as hard as the angel had been striving for while lap-bound. 

Somewhere in the background, Dean could feel Cas’ wings grazing the muscles of his back, and Dean could hardly focus long enough to wonder if Cas meant to do so, knowing full well how it – _literally_ at this point – got beneath his skin.

Dean’s entire body shook and it was an absolute fucking miracle he hadn’t come and dissolved into a mess of nothing by now.  _What the hell was holding them together?_

Dean could barely keep eyes open, but during the moments he could, he noticed Cas experiencing the same, the seconds they did make eye contact sending a different brand of lightning through them.  Cas’ eyes were a brilliant, clear shade of blue that were near hidden by his overcome, dilated pupils.  But it was only a second’s sight, before Cas’ eyes shut and his head was thrown back, more of the noisy moaning joining the air present back in whatever world they left behind.

“C-Cas…” Dean groaned.  An insane attempt to continue with a _shhhh,_ but coming nowhere near as he realized Cas wasn’t the only one crying out so loudly.  _Fuck.  His body couldn’t restrain or express all of_ this _properly, not a chance._

The bolts of lightning that snaked through his system were no longer tiny, instead crackling their way down the entire length of his body, causing his shaking to intensify, his hands hardly able to keep hold of Cas.  Any essence of manliness Dean would’ve clutched onto outside of this seemed to slip completely away, his heavy moaning melting into uninhibited whimpering, every particle in his body pleading for release.  His thrusting had slowed, the pleasure of each thrust as good as orgasm after orgasm – but apparently not as merciful.

It wouldn’t come, and Cas knew.

“Dean…” Cas breathed, writhing underneath him, hips curving up to keep Dean moving inside of him.  He was staring up at Dean, the hunter breathless as he trembled above him, their bodies nearly parallel due to Dean managing to keep hold of his wrists.  But Dean’s eyes were still closed, and Cas couldn’t read him.

“Dean,” Cas keened, pulling one arm free to rest his palm against the side of Dean’s face.  His legs hooked behind Dean’s own, pulling them flush as Dean’s hips seemed to sink into him, leaving himself inside of Cas despite his visibly draining energy. 

“Fuck, Cas… it’s so much, I…” Dean murmured, finally opening his eyes to the touch of Cas’ hand on his face.  There was that green, shining intensity owed to the beautiful soul resting behind and within those eyes.  Cas loved when it Dean was this vibrant, especially when not long ago he thought he had lost all of him. 

“It won’t let us,” Cas explained, knowing.  _Angel… human._   It was more complicated than Castiel had thought, largely due to the choice he had made. 

“What?” Dean questioned, amusedly appearing as if thwarted.  His cheeks were an embarrassed red.  Cas knew he had no reason to be.

“My grace.”

Dean shivered and with reluctance Cas pulled his wings back and away from where they tickled Dean’s back.  He seemed to visibly calm with a shaky breath outward, but Cas could see a dark, needing flickering in the hunter’s gaze.

“I took part of it away and gave it to you, and it wants it back.  Being this close to you is as close as it can get without me physically taking it back from you, and if we were to finish, it can sense we’d be further apart.”

“You want it?” Dean questioned, his hand finally loosening its hold around Cas’ wrists.  Cas felt he may have said something wrong.  He felt Dean shifting in a manner elusive, but he stubbornly kept his legs hooked around Dean’s, not ashamed to utilize his advantage in strength to keep Dean close.  It had felt so _wonderful_ , so beyond his comprehension that it excited him all the more, and even now the sensations hadn’t ceased.  He could feel it coursing through him, all that was _Dean.  All that he wanted._

“Don’t leave, Dean,” Cas implored, his stare unwavering.  “I don’t want it.  I gave it to you to save you, and I will never take it back.  It’s yours.”

“Well,” Dean started, tone gruffer now, “okay.”

Castiel could sense walls returning, the walls of the more familiar Dean Winchester, who had him so often in a flurry of confusion.  He could sense the disappointment, the slight shame that Castiel knew had no reason to exist – human emotion that was needless when Castiel held no judgment toward Dean for not being able to achieve what it was Dean wished for, whether it for himself or for the both of them.  He watched as Dean inwardly fought what to do – what to say – next.

“If it won’t let us, then how’re we supposed to do this?”  Dean licked his lips in that nervous habit of his, his eyes lingering on Cas’ lips for a brief second.  With slightly more bravado, Dean ever so subtly rocked his hips forward, Castiel feeling him hit that particular spot inside of him that sent hot tendrils of pleasure throughout him.  His body reacted with him, eyelids fluttering as he breathed out softly. 

There was a slight difference now that his grace had calmed in the inactivity.  It was that warm feeling more human than familiar, and Castiel pondered the strange idea that this more tender, less obvious movement might keep his grace from so actively reaching out for the part it was missing – the part that was now Dean. 

“Like you are,” Cas answered, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck to bring him close – to feel his warm breathing, to savor his unique scent he had become so fond of.  “Slower, so it won’t be on high alert in either of us.”

“That kinda ruins the fun,” Dean commented, but he rocked forward a second time anyway, a revived smirk tipping the corner of his mouth.

This caused a current of pleasure, evened out by the stirring warmth.  Castiel fidgeted in response, legs loosening enough so Dean could move as he wished.  Where they were, faces close, Castiel charged in a low tone, “Kiss me.”

His words brought back to Dean’s gaze a liveliness, a wound-up jump into mischief.  Dean thrust into Castiel and as he moaned, Dean took his lips, a hand gripping Castiel’s chin, exploring his mouth as if wishing to swallow his body’s reflexive noises.  _Ahh, but the taste of Dean…_

He felt himself being swayed by the thrusting, strong but far less vigorous than before.  It was almost agonizing, both the sudden switch and the unhurried way the hunter drew out, leaving Castiel feeling an emptiness that intensified a wild longing. It was a longing that dragged up the unusual leaping sensation from stomach to throat, the sounds often unable to stay within him.  They couldn’t be held back even before, when he was so quickly satisfied, so this time was vastly more difficult.

“Too slow,” Cas ground out against Dean’s lips, fingers moving to grip tightly into his hair.  He was back to barely understanding what his own self was saying.  He had felt so lucid before, but Dean had a way with disassembling everything he knew.

“You said this is what we had to do,” Dean said, words laced with the same mischievousness he’d seen in his gaze.

It was true.  Castiel could no longer feel the fierce pull of his opposing grace, but was this what _human_ was?  So leisurely… warm sensations wrought with teasing?  It was amazing, beautiful as Dean was, but the lack of forwardness more confounding for Castiel.

Castiel licked his unoccupied lips as he sighed long and heavy, pleased but needing.  His head sunk into the bed, dropping away from Dean’s mouth.  With the sudden freedom, Dean straightened himself, now perched between Cas’ legs, hands gripping and lifting the angel’s thighs, pushing them further into Cas’ own chest.  With his backside further exposed, it felt like Dean drove himself deeper inside of him.  A low whine escaped from between Cas’ lips, hands and fingers kneading the blanket beneath him.

Suddenly, there was nothing but cold, Dean no longer inside of him, hands releasing their hold on his legs.  “Dean—“ he began, but the man interrupted.

“Since we’re doin’ things different now, we may as well try new things.”

Castiel lifted himself onto his elbows, head angled.  “This is… challenging, Dean.”

Dean chuckled, sitting there atop his knees on the bed.  Castiel enjoyed Dean’s laugh.  It made up for the sudden lack of _feeling_ him.  “Look who’s talking, Cas.  We were on a roll before your grace decided to take over.”

“What are the new things?  This is already new, Dean,” Cas queried.

“Pretty sure we defy a ton of other norms.  Now that we’re here…” Dean let his unfinished sentence go, his gaze seeming to observe the room, his lips parted as his breathing steadily continued to even itself. 

Castiel found his stare moving from Dean’s expression down the expanse of his chest, down the trial of light hair that started at his belly and traveled down to larger patch of hair that surrounded his glaringly hard erection.  Castiel swallowed small, unaware of doing so.  His own penis twitched, aching slightly.  This was terribly different than the last time.  They had been clothed and using the friction between them, and Castiel experienced one of the best sensations he’d ever had in the span of his existence, and now that he knew the feeling, he could only anticipate it.  How complex sex was.

Dean caught Cas staring and tried to hide the flush that crept over his face.  “Hey, what’s so fascinating down there?” he reacted.  _Goddamn it, he was like a teenage girl with Cas, and it was getting ridiculous.  They’d fucked, for Christ’s sake, and now he couldn’t let Cas check stare at his penis a little?_

“You are fascinating… everywhere, Dean,” Cas replied, eyes returning to Dean’s face as seriously as if they were talking of cases.

Dean fought not to heat up further, then distracted himself by taking that second to move off of the bed.  “Let’s try you up against somethin’, huh?” Dean suggested, holding out his hand for Cas to take.

No comprehension of what that meant appeared in the angel’s gaze, but he rolled around anyway, taking Dean’s hand and letting him lead them away from the bed.

“Anywhere you wanna try?” Dean playfully tossed at him, again hoping to ease the reemerging nerves.  They seemed to lessen the longer they kept around each other in the nude, though, especially after having near fucked into oblivion.

“I don’t follow you…” Cas replied slowly, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“’Course you don’t,” Dean replied, idly shaking his head as his eyes fell on the sink that sat near the corner of the room.  It was adjacent to the door that led to the rest of the bathroom, but the sink – they always seemed to leave that part separate.  It was a counter, set up beneath a huge mirror with the sink a small bowl in the middle.  “Sink it is.”

Moments later Cas was pressed up against said counter, his hands gripping its edges as they kissed, Dean’s hands on top of Cas’ own.  They were fixed against each other, Dean able to feel Cas’ hot length poking into his stomach again. 

“Alright, enough with death by anticipation,” Dean remarked hastily, feeling an ache in his own cock, driven crazy by the readiness in which Cas responded to him, his body arching as if flush wasn’t close enough.  Using this instance, Dean grabbed Cas beneath one thigh, lifting it upward as he pushed the both of them harder into the counter. 

Cas got the picture and lifted himself the small distance it took for his ass to be resting on the counter, between it’s edge and the outer rim of the sink.  Once settled, Dean led himself with a free hand back to Cas’ entrance, not as measured when he pushed into the angel the second time around.  He buried himself completely, gritting his teeth against a moan from the missed feeling.

Cas didn’t bother muffling his, a throaty gasp leaving him.  Cas had wrapped an arm around Dean’s shoulders, his other hand pressing into the counter, fingers curled against its surface. 

“You been liking this best, Cas?” Dean managed to ask.  He pulled back gradually, before swiftly slamming himself back into the man, hoping he still had a handle on the same spot. 

A slightly startled but pleasured moan burst from Cas, fingernails now digging into the skin of Dean’s shoulders.  “Y…Yes…” he hissed.

“That so?” Dean teased as he began to plant chaste kisses against Cas’ neck.  The angel’s head tilted to the side at once, giving Dean room to leave a warm trail. 

“Yes… but I did f-favor before…” Cas tried to respond. Dean’s hips rocked in and out of the gasping, noisy angel, alternating between a steady thrusting and his slow but insistent comeback.  Cas seemed keen on pushing into Dean when he could.  “…before when there w-was much… power in it.”

“Me too,” Dean growled against Cas’ neck, playfully biting it.  “But this feels pretty damn good too.”

Things had gone on long enough that they were both hot.  Hot, slick, and sweaty – and Dean could hear the frenzied slap of them coming together, the pace picking up despite Cas’ warning about his grace, _their_ grace.  Dean could feel slight cracklings shoot through him, but not as intensely as before.

Cas was losing it, breathy moans leaving him with every thrust.  He clung to Dean with both arms.  Dean still held Cas’ leg, his other hand cupping his jaw, kissing him every so often through his untamed noises.  Dean was losing it too.

“You’re a lot… a lot more into this than I t-thought you’d be…” Dean breathed, his decision to speak letting free a groan.  It was either a really fucking good or bad idea to talk, because it was so close to sounding _dirty_ to him, and it drove him that much further into a hot mess – blood pooling, everything tautening, feeling on the edge.

“Anything…” Cas gasped, sounding as if he meant to continue, but physically unable to.  The leg Dean wasn’t holding lifted to hook around Dean’s waist.  “For you---ah…” Cas was letting loose a series of whimpers now, Dean’s thrusting quickening.

“Harder...” Cas was pleading.  _Pleading?  Fuck… oh god, please… he only had so much strength…_ “Dean, I— _please_ …“ More panting, more keening noises. 

Dean was no longer losing it, but lost.  He was lost and surrounded by light and heat and energy and all he wanted was to give Cas what he wanted.  It was rough, like before, but Cas seemed to want – to _need_ it that way.  _Rough, unrelenting, no emptiness or space…_ the grace was overwhelming them again, drawn in by the closeness, but it had come too late this time. 

Cas was coming, body spasming with the shuddering intensity of it, crying out so loud Dean was surprised not to hear walls collapsing around them.  His entire body stiffened, Cas too strong for Dean to control.  Legs had wrapped around his middle, squeezing their bodies close as Cas’ untouched erection throbbed, cum released in warm, thick spurts against both Cas’ chest and his own.

 _That was it._   Dean was gone. 

While gripping tightly to Cas’ sides, fingers digging into skin in a way he knew had to be painful – at least for anyone human -- he came in hot, pulsing waves deep inside of the angel, a climax longer than he knew possible.  At first his body seemed too shocked for sound, but eventually he let out a dazed, chocked groan, pleasure too much amongst a storm of light clouding his vision. 

The last thing he saw before the storm overtook him was a flash of blue.

* * *

 

 

Dean thought he was awake.  Maybe he was, but everything was hazy, the only clear thing being Cas at his side. 

“What… the hell?” Dean mumbled with eloquence, a fist rising to rub at his eyes.  He felt drained.  _His whole damn self._   It was a good thing he was lying in a bed or it was a sure thing he’d topple clean over.

“You passed out,” Cas explained.

“You’re kiddin’ me,” Dean griped, arm draping across his forehead to partially hide his horrified face.  He hadn’t forgotten what they’d been doing just before, and the idea that he blacked out and then crumpled against Cas— _awkward much?_

“Don’t worry, Dean,” Cas consoled.  Dean suddenly realized the other half of his horrified face was pressed against something warm, something with a steady rise and fall.  Cas’ gravelly voice came from above his head.  “I didn’t expect…”

Green eyes opened to see he was nestled against Cas side, his head resting on his bared chest.  _Cuddling.  Cas really liked to cuddle.  Hell, if anyone saw him like this…_  

“Expect what?” he asked, cutting off his train of thought, staying where he was.  Sure, every tough bone in his body was protesting against it, years of anti-mushy, anti-girly, and anti-intimacy fighting for control, but _Fuck.  It.  All._   Cas was warm and weirdly comfortable and most importantly _here._   With him.  He wouldn’t screw it up by pushing himself away this time.

“For it to overwhelm you so considerably.  I’m sorry, Dean, for asking…” 

Castiel went quiet.  Dean could picture his eyes turning to a random spot of nowhere, his own display of _bashful_ ness.  How creepy would it be to admit he found it endearing?  _Gay was what it was_ , Dean instantly thought.  _But wasn’t he past this?  If he wanted to debate with himself, he’d sucked Cas and had full-blown sex with him – gaygaygay.  But even Dean knew it was more complicated than that.  Cas was the only one he’d ever dared and wanted to do all of this with.  It was liking – loving_ Cas, not something limited to some sexuality crisis.  That much Dean was sure of.

“Dean?” Cas was confused by the silence following his apology.

“You don’t have to be sorry for everything, Cas.  Apologizing for liking something is like me apologizing every time I… take in a forkful of pie.”

“I don’t see the similarity between pie and begging for more aggressive physical stimuli that endangers you, but I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean murmured, mind bringing him back to the moment.  “Talk about it more casually.”  He felt another stupid blush coming on, and so distracted himself by dragging a hand over Cas’ chest.  His eyes closed as he let himself relax, mind easing into a state of fuzzy content.  Fingers glided over Cas’ light spread of chest hair, following a narrowing trail past his belly button.  _Well, being cozied up to a someone with only a bit more body hair than him was friggin’ new… an_ alright _kind of new.  Okay, a pleasant_ Cas _new._ But all of a sudden he drew back his hand. 

“Dude, you’re still buck naked.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, untroubled.

“How long has it been?”

There was quiet, then, “Four hours.”

“You’ve been lying here with me for that long?”

“Yes, is that alright?”

The idea made the miniature butterflies erupt within him.  “Sure.  No problem.”

“We were loud,” Cas randomly stated.

_What was this – mention everything that’d spring a Dean-nerve hour?_

“How do you know?” Dean replied, lifting away from Cas chest, pulling himself up to the angel’s level.  He wanted a view of Cas’ face now, and lying by his side propped up by an elbow wasn’t _too_ far away. 

_Wait—what was he, a puppy now?_

Cas was smiling—Dean could tell, even if it was nearly ghost-like, barely there.  “What?” Dean demanded.

“I’m sor—I mean… no.  No, I’m not.”  Cas was openly staring at Dean now that they were face-to-face again, appearing more amused at having stopped another apology.  “I just found it… funny, you imagining yourself a puppy to relate your attachment to me.” 

Dean pulled a face, staring back at Cas without humor.  _So he wanted to play it that way, huh?  Jump into his head for a bit?_

Sensing Dean’s reaction, Cas’ eyes flickered upward, avoiding him.  “I only looked for a moment.  Only long enough to catch that single thought.  I promise.”

“I bet,” Dean retorted doubtfully, but he would let it slide.  At this stage, what did he had to hide from Cas, anyway?

“So why’s it so funny?” Dean prodded.

“Because when I was canine, I felt it was intensifying what attachment I had to you.  Similar, that’s all… even though both of us are, essentially, human now, and it’s only you and you alone questioning your attachment to me.”

It took Dean a second to process what Cas was saying, and when he did he searched the angel’s face for a few more long, hard seconds.  _Of course.  Couldn’t read a thing._

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

“Are you worried about it?”

“No.” Dean lied.  Cas could tell.

“I won’t leave.”

Dean attempted playing it cool, as he always did, though his heart was beating harder than it had been.  “Good, or I’ll have to kick your feathery ass.”

He glanced over to see Cas and his dumb smiling again.  _The guy always had to be so mysterious about it.  Didn’t he know how smiling worked?_

“The people next door were hitting the wall.”

Eyebrows rose in confusion as he looked to Cas again, but then he remembered his unanswered question.  “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Being an angel has its advantages,” Cas said, “Or disadvantages.” He was suddenly frowning. 

“Wanna elaborate?”

“It’s better to not hear background noise while there are more enjoyable things to listen to.  Like you, for instance.  While we were making love—“

“—passionately _fucking_ ,” Dean interjected.

“…Fucking,” Cas continued slowly, as if the term was foreign to him.   “I heard the wall being hit.  I heard Jessica barking, and I heard young people giggling outside.”

“Please tell me that’s your idea of a joke.”

“I don’t often joke.  I do wish I were.  However, the feeling accompanying the… _fucking_ did overcome such distraction, and so did your own noises, since we were, of course… much closer.”  The frown faded from Cas, but Dean may as well have stolen it from him.  He wore one for the both of them.

“Well that’s just peachy,” Dean muttered sarcastically, rolling to bury his face into his pillow.  “The whole world knows.”

“It’s likely to only be the people in the vicinity of this motel.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Around nine, after sleeping a few more needed hours and taking a hot shower, Dean was starting to wonder why Sam hadn’t come around yet.  Nine was typically late for them to hit the road again, but hey, Dean wouldn’t deny they deserved it after this last case.

He hit the vending machines outside, settling on waters and pastry things.  There wasn’t any coffee here, and _sorry Sam_ , but no portable salads.  As he scooped their breakfast out, he was beginning to grumble in worry.

“I bet he’s pissed because he got me that room specifically to avoid anything to do with me and you.”

Dean started walking toward the Impala, storing his bag and deciding to wait it out some more.  Cas had followed him, squinting as he often did when in thought.  “I wasn’t aware Sam was avoiding us.”

“Just _us_ us,” Dean clarified.

“Uh… yes.  _Us_.  I understood that, but why?”

Dean couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  _Sometimes…_

“I meant he wants to be spared us being…” Dean sighed.  “Sexual.”

“Do you think he minds the love itself… that we share?”  Downturned eyes.

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I try not to interfere with Sam’s mind.  You two are brothers and I believe that a better way to know each other.”

Dean shifted uneasily against the car, arms crossing over his chest as Cas once again brought up a superbly serious subject Dean didn’t really care for mulling over.  Sure, he’d admitted his feelings for Cas, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easier the next time, or the time after that.

“I don’t know… probably not.  Sam’s a good guy,” he mumbled reservedly.

“Sam is a very kind person,” Cas agreed.   “He cares for your happiness.”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, unsure of what to say.  _Sam might care for that, but he also cared about not being scarred for life.  A lot like anyone would._ Dean held his tongue. 

Ten more minutes had to have gone by before Dean finally heaved an impatient sigh.  “Time’s up, Sammy.”  Off he went to Sam’s door, giving it two sharp knocks. 

“Yo, Sammy.  Better not be dead.”

There was definitely a shuffling in there, along with a short yip of a bark, then the door opened to reveal his towering, glowering brother. 

“Someone get up on the wrong side?” Dean joked, grinning sheepishly.

“I don’t own earplugs, Dean,” Sam said through his glare.

“Cry me a river?” Dean remarked as if he had no idea what Sam was getting at.  Yeah, time to quickly walk away, and so he did, turning back to the car.  “Let’s go?”

“Answer one thing first.”

“Yeah?”  Dean stopped.

“ _What the hell is wrong with you guys_?”

Instantly Dean feigned innocence, pointing at Cas.  “His fault.”

Cas actually looked startled to have been brought into their morning greeting.  He blinked then, “… I suppose it was.  My grace reacts strongly to—“

“You can stop there,” Dean insisted.

“I—“

“Nope, that’s fine as is.”

“It was your fault too,” Sam contended, to Dean’s relief actually leaving his room with bag over shoulder and dog prancing along by leash.  “Everyone.  It woke up _everyone_.  Why, Dean?  _Why?_ ”  The last of his words was practically a lament.

“You always target me, man, when I’m not even the one.”

“Cas doesn’t know better,” Sam spoke in a hush.

“Oh come the fuck on!” Dean exclaimed.  “He’s not some innocent little…”  he gestured toward Cas in frustration, at a loss for a good enough name.  “Just… he isn’t!”

Suddenly a group of teenagers were peering very noticeably out of a motel room door nearby where they were parked.  Their snooping, judging stares got under Dean’s skin in a split second – but they kept doing it, going between him, Cas, and Sam.  He even took time to glare at them, but Cas ruined the threat by leaning toward Dean and opening his mouth.

“They were the young people giggling… concerning our activities,” Cas made clear.

“Great,” Dean replied dully, his patience worn away entirely.  “You see something you like, you pervy sons of a bitches?!” he called out, none too polite.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam all but reprimanded as the group disappeared back into their room with wide eyes.  “You can calm down.  I guess I can shove aside all the moaning… screaming… _oh, gross_.  Horrors of the night… _ugh,_ forget I even spoke.”

“Not until you get on Cas’ case.  Every time something’s happened, you blame me.  _Me._   But you know why these things happened in the first place?  _Him_.”

Dean stood there stubbornly, receiving no support from either end.  Cas merely stared at him, an unreadable look in his eyes – and Sam, he looked like Dean was projecting in all the wrong directions, as if he really _was_ the only inconsiderate one.

When nothing happened, Cas suddenly spoke up, head tilted thoughtfully.  Seriously.  “No… you are at fault, Dean.  I learned about personal space from you, but you don’t follow your teachings.  When I’m away, you wish me close.”

Dean opened his mouth wordlessly.  _This wasn’t happening.  Cas was_ not _turning on him, throwing him to his own brother._

“Also...” Cas mused, “that night when we awoke you, Sam?  Dean… he assured me it was fine to keep going, even with you sleeping.  He told me to be as loud as I want.”

“What?  _What?_!”  Dean rebutted, horrified.  _What the hell was going on – what kind of game was Cas playing?  What happened to him not even knowing how… how…_

Cas leaned forward into their little makeshift circle, as if relaying to them both a secret.  “Dean has a preference for expression at higher volumes.”

“Okay, all of this is definitely made up,” Dean defended, laughing in disbelief, shooting the angel a look.  “Seriously, Cas.  What the hell?”

But Cas looked genuinely puzzled by Dean’s reaction. 

“That’s pretty gnarly even for you, Dean, with your own brother in the room,” Sam said with a faintly scrunched-up nose, clearly disturbed by Cas’ sudden ‘sharing is caring’ time.  _A goddamn fabricated one!  Dean remembered that night, and it was definitely_ himself _that was worrying about being in the same room as Sam._

“And last night, he was… especially adamant about our volume.  He spoke of wanting us loud enough to wake the world.”  Cas shrugged naively in that awkward little way of his, “I don’t understand his… fixations.”

“Do I even want to know why that was plural?  I think I’ve… yeah, I’ve heard enough.”  Sam made a gagging motion in Dean’s direction.  “Stop being an exhibitionist, Dean.  Think about how you’re corrupting Cas.  He’s an _angel,_ remember?”

Dean couldn’t even respond, his jaw tightly clenched as he watched Sam escape into the Impala’s passenger seat, Jessica jumping into his lap after him, banned from going anywhere else in the car.  _No, he wouldn’t stay irritated with Sammy – this time it was all on Cas._ Dean’s head turned toward him, prepared to punch him one even at the expense of the bones in his hand.  Dean wasn’t savvy with handling humiliation, this much was obvious, and Cas had thrown him in headlong.

“You gonna tell me what that was all about?” Dean grilled.

Cas stepped forward, maddeningly stoic even though Dean knew there had to be something going on behind those walls of his.  “Do you see it?” Cas asked.

“See what?”

“It doesn’t exist between us,” Cas responded, eyes narrowing as if scrutinizing the reasons Dean was unable to see what was so clearly there.  Dean was grasping at memories, feeling such familiarity in this moment.   Cas took another step forward, so close Dean could see… those dark eyelashes in awkward detail.  “That was one of many clues.”

You thought you had it, and now we’ve established we love each other.  You need to be careful where you point fingers, because though I love you, I _will_ play games until you’re no longer ashamed of the fact I quite gracefully…. breached what is now nonexistent.”

“Cryptic, Cas… but what are you gettin’ at?”

The angel gestured outward with open arms at his sides; Dean could hear a rustling mirroring the movement, imagining the angel’s black wings outstretched. Cas showed sign of a smirk rather than a smile, for once a very _visible_ sly curl of lips brightened Cas’ stare. 

Dean couldn’t help it.  He lifted a hand above Cas’ shoulder, sneaking it behind to weave through the invisible, feathery fog that were Cas’ wings.  Dean instantly felt a barrage of lightning wind through his veins, both warm and cool at once.  He didn’t even notice he’d wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck – an effort to hide the entirety of his arms within the sensation of the other’s wings.

“See,” Cas calmed, closing his eyes to the feeling of Dean’s touch against his wings.  Warmth overcame him – reassuringly human and wholly _Dean._   

“I _am_ your personal space, Dean Winchester.”

 

* * *

 

 

Half a minute later, a window to the Impala rolled down behind them, the end of an impatient sigh caught by the outside air.  “Can you guys stop for _ten whole seconds_?  We’ve got a case two states over.  You can hold hands again when we stop for gas.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
